Princess of Gondor
by Remember How I Used To Be
Summary: FIRST IN MY SERIES: Branwen, the first child of Aragorn and Arwen, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. Legolas has known her since birth, but can he help her face her demons? Can he face his own?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf. **

Legolas sat just outside the queen's bedchamber with Aragorn.

Aragorn paced nervously back and forth, from one end of the hall to the other.

"Aragorn, please, sit. You shall make my head spin if you continue your pacing like this." Legolas told his anxious friend.

"I can not," Aragorn replied as he paced some more, "Perhaps someday I will have the joy of speaking those same words when you pace the halls waiting for news of your wife and first child."

Legolas laughed, "Hardly my friend. It is not likely that I wed before I leave Middle Earth, if I shall ever wed that is."

The King of Gondor shook his shaggy brown hair from his face.

A silence grew between the two as time seemed to crawl by. The only sounds in the hall were those of Aragorn's cloak brushing everything nearby and the sound of his footsteps as he paced continuously about the narrow passageway.

Legolas tried to appear calm, yet his insides twisted with worry for the queen and her, as of yet, unborn child. He could hear the muffled voices of the mid-wives as they coaxed Arwen. Arwen's pained cries nearly covered the sounds of their voices.

The voices and the queen's cries suddenly ceased. They were replaced by the healthy screams of a newborn child.

Aragorn rushed to the doorway and Legolas was on his feet.

The mid-wives opened the door a moment later and allowed the two inside.

Aragorn moved hurriedly across the room to his exhausted wife's side.

The queen smiled tiredly up at her husband, then, together, they gazed down at the tiny infant in her arms.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Arwen whispered, cuddling the baby girl to her chest.

Aragorn could only stare at his first child. "She is so tiny." His brown eyes were soft and wide as he gently touched the girl's soft, pink cheek.

"Here," Arwen gently as she arranged Aragorn's arms to her satisfaction and placed the newborn in them.

The king cradled his child for a moment and then looked to Legolas. "My friend," He stood up and placed the child in his friend's arms.

Legolas' smooth mask of calm and indifference melted as he cooed gently to the awakened girl. He gasped as she seized a lock of his long golden hair and tugged at it. Before she could place it in her small mouth, Legolas untangled her fingers from it and moved it out of her reach. "You don't want that," He told her shaking his head slightly, "No you don't."

Arwen and Aragorn burst out laughing at Legolas' antics with their baby girl.

Embarrassed, Legolas passed the girl back to her parents. "What have you named her?"

Arwen looked thoughtful for a moment. "Branwen, as it was in a dream I had." She touched the girl's forehead, "Branwen, my daughter."

* * *

An arrow buried its head deep into the center of the target. 

Legolas lowered his bow and looked over at his young pupil, Branwen.

Her emerald green eyes had taken in every movement of the arms and hands. In one fluid motion she pull her own bow string taut, an arrow notched. Branwen took a small breath in and released the arrow. It flew straight, plunging into the target just beneath the center circle.

"Excellent!" Legolas told her, a smile playing about his lips. She was a quick learner.

Branwen shook her head. "No, it should have been dead center." She brought her bow up again, ready to fire.

The Elf watched as the young human gazed at the target with steady determination.

A second later the arrow had buried itself in the target. This time it was slightly closer to the center, but not dead center.

Branwen looked away from the target and began to replace her bow in its proper place, then fetched her arrows from the target.

Legolas watched her with a thoughtful expression upon his face. "Branwen, even an Elf has a bit of trouble at first." He placed a gentle hand upon the girl's shoulder, but was shrugged off.

"An Elf is born with a bow in his hands, humans are not!" The princess retorted sharply, lifting her bow and quiver of arrows. Her long dark hair swung about in the sunlight as she strode towards the palace.

The Elven Prince shook his head as he gathered his own things up and returned to the palace.

* * *

Legolas walked with his friend, Aragorn, in the garden's of Minas Tirith. 

"How is Branwen doing in her archery?" The Gondorian King asked his closest friend.

The Elf smiled wryly. "She's very talented with a bow, but, "He paused and glanced at Aragorn, "She refuses to see her victories, no matter how small they are. Branwen has a sharp mind and she enjoys using it."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, "Oh, how so?"

"After yesterday's lesson she was frustrated at her inability to hit the target. I told her that even an Elf has problems at first. She replied that 'An Elf is born with a bow in his hands, humans are not!' Then she promptly walked back to the palace."

Branwen's father had a hard time choking back a fit of laughter, and did not succeed in doing so. "I do believe she got you with that one." He snickered.

Legolas shook his head. "Branwen is a bright child; there is no doubt about that." The Elf paused and glanced past the city walls and out to the nearest forest. "But what she lacks is friendship. Haven't you noticed that while most of the children her age are spending their free-time laughing and joking in the city's bazaars while she remains in her rooms reading? None of them dare go anywhere near her. As much as she'd hate to admit it, I've seen her, as we passed them in their groups, give them a longing glance as if she is dying to join them. Or perhaps for one to call out and ask her to hang out with them as well?"

Aragorn thought for a moment. "I have, once or perhaps twice. The child is loath for anyone to see inside of her. She hates it when her mother tries to have mother-daughter talks. Poor Arwen is heartbroken that her own daughter won't open up to her."

"If I might suggest something?" Legolas ventured.

"Of course, my friend." Came the reply.

"Let me take her out into the forest, let her use her skills for survival, and perhaps if it can be proven to her that her skills are incredible for a child of her age, and then it might just help her gain a friend. If not a friend that is her own age, perhaps one among the Guard?" The Elven Prince watched Aragorn's expression intensely.

The Man's face brightened visibly, "That would not be a bad idea! The child is old enough and can hardly be called a child much longer. What harm could be done? I shall speak with Arwen and give you her answer on the morrow. Fare thee well." He strode off to consult with his wife, leaving Legolas alone with his thoughts.

Legolas hoped that he might be able to draw young Branwen from her self-imposed seclusion, and maybe gain her trust and friendship.

* * *

Legolas mounted his horse and waited a moment for his young student to appear. 

Branwen was dressed in the tunic of a squire. She looked much older than her thirteen years of age. Where many girls still had childish features she was becoming very much like the beautiful woman her mother was, and maybe more like her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. Perhaps her features were not as defined as that of an Elven maiden, but they held the same loveliness. Smooth muscles had appeared over the last few weeks, a result of her hard training, sculpting her even further into a vision of beauty that Legolas knew would one day bring suitors flocking to the gates of the White City.

"What are you looking at?" Branwen said sharply, jolting Legolas from his thoughts.

He did not respond, merely raising an eyebrow at her sharpness.

The human met his gaze with a defiant gaze of her own.

"Don't kill each other before you even leave the gates of Gondor!" Aragorn joked, breaking the determined silence, "Sometimes, I wish you weren't so much like your mother." He shook his head, "Stubborn as an ox at times."

Branwen gave her father and mother a peck on the cheek. "I will be back in a few days." She shot her mother a look, "And don't knot the loom too badly while I am gone, I just got it untangled."

Arwen blushed; embarrassed at her troubles with weaving that seemed to come naturally to the other young women of the palace.

Branwen winked at her father, "Though, _Ada_ might be able to cut the knots out with his sword."

Her parents laughed and bid her a safe journey.

"Take care of her," Aragorn told Legolas, gripping his hand in farewell.

"I will, I promise you." The Elf glanced over at the rebellious girl as she mounted her own horse. "Shall we be off then?" He asked her.

"Yes, let's" She replied smoothly.

The pair turned their horses into the streets of the city.

The people of Gondor still found the Elf a fascination, and the fact that he was leaving the city with the girl that might one day rule in her father's stead only sent more murmuring through their midst.

Branwen did her best to ignore the stares of the Gondorian people. Several young men she had seen training with the Guard were standing beside the road, smirks upon their faces. They seemed to be taunting her with what they had, but she didn't. She didn't know what that was, but the smirks annoyed her. All Branwen really wanted to do was slap those stupid smirks off of their faces. She saw one whispering to his friends. As they rode by, she caught the words, "Bet she won't last a minute out there in the forest." _How dare they! _She was fuming, but managed to keep it hidden beneath a calm façade, _I'll show them that I'm at least their equal, if not their better!_

Legolas heard the whispering and placing of bets and he allowed his eyes to slide over to Branwen's face. It was slightly pale, but hard and determined. He allowed a small smile to caress his lips at his student's control of her emotions.

In but a few moments the pair had ridden through the looming gates of the White City and were riding South to the forest of Ithilien, to Branwen's test.


	2. The Trip

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**

* * *

**  
Legolas perched himself upon a tree branch, looking out over the quiet forest of Ithilien. The forest was the perfect place for him. It was calm and very quiet, a perfect place for thinking.

He watched as Branwen trudged off towards the Great White River to fetch the water for the day. She seemed reluctant to go near the river, and hated any water that was more than knee deep. It was all he could do to persuade her that the small spring near their camp was a safe place to bathe.

Branwen twisted the tip of her long brown braid about one finger as she knelt on the slippery moss beside the river. She was nervous, anyone could tell she was afraid of the water. The truth was, she had never learned to swim. The loud roar of the river did nothing to ease her fears of the water.

With trembling hands, the princess bent down to fill the jug from the stream. A fish jumping in the river frightened her and she tumbled in with a splash.

Legolas saw his charge fall into the river with a splash. For a moment he wasn't too concerned. Then his sharp ears caught her screams. She was struggling in the waves and suddenly went under the surface.

Blood roared in her ears as she struggled against the current to keep her head above the water. Everytime the rocks rose up above the surface Branwen struggled to keep a firm grip on them. "Legolas!" She screamed, fighting the current with all her strength. Scrabbling for a foothold, her right foot became entangle in the weeds and rocks at the bottom of the river. "Legolas!" Branwen screamed again as she was pulled beneath the surface of the water. She battled against the swirling current, trying to get a grip on any nearby rocks that might help her pull free.

Lying on the bottom of the river, Branwen found an arrowhead. She seized it up and fumbled with the weeds, trying to cut herself loose. It worked! In a few seconds, she had managed to cut the weeds and pull free. Once free of the weeds, she no longer had any control of where the river took her. All she could do was try and reach the surface before she ran out of air.

Branwen kicked against a rock lying on the river bottom and shot upward, surfacing several hundred yards from where she had been drawing water. Her pale face went even paler as she looked behind her to see the foaming water as it flooded through the gates formed by large sharp rocks. In an instant her back was slammed into the sharp corner of a rock. A startled cry lept from her lips.

A cry of pain caught the Elf's attention as he gazed down the river, searching for the missing princess. Quite a ways downstream, he sighted Branwen as she was slammed against the sharp rocks by the current. He ran towards her, trying to keep his footing as he scrambled across the slippery banks. Then, he saw a bright red streak of blood flow down Branwen's face from a large gash in her temple.

The girl gasped for air as she slammed against another rock, this time with her head. A large gash opened in the side of her head and blood began to flow into the water, tinting the foam a pinkish color. Her green eyes blinked rapidly, trying to clear her clouding vision. All she could see as she sank beneath the waves was the pink foam rolling about her.

Legolas lept nimbly from rock to rock, searching out the unconscious girl. The froth made it impossible to see very deep, but he could see deep enough. Her pale face shone through the waves and he reached down with one arm, scooping her from the water. Blood still ran from her temple and it ran from numerous other wounds over her body. He gingerly wrapped her in his cloak. Legolas knelt down a short distance from the water and checked for vitals signs. He found the faint pulsing of a vein in her throat. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when she coughed up a bunch of water. "Let's get you to camp." He said softly, lifting her up again.

The Elven Prince gently wrapped a bandage about Branwen's head, trying to stop the blood flow. She gasped in pain as he ran his fingers gently over another of her wounds.

"Hold still for a moment." Legolas told her as she struggled to get up.

The Gondorian Princess lay still as another bandage was wrapped tightly about her upper arm. She was thankful that it wasn't her sword arm that had been wounded.

Legolas glanced at her pale face as he cleaned her up as best he could. "Why didn't you swim with the current and get yourself to shore?" He asked, his fingers probed her left shin, gently checking for broken bones.

"I-I can't swim." Branwen stammered out. She felt bad that she hadn't learned when her father had wanted her to, but… Her thought trailed off and was replaced by another. Now she had disappointed her teacher. Branwen hated it when people were disappointed in her; it gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that just wouldn't go away.

"You don't know how to swim?" The Elf raised one eyebrow and then smiled sadly, "I'd forgotten, humans aren't born knowing how to swim. Then again, neither are some Elves." Legolas checked the bandages to make sure they were tight.

"It's not just that I wasn't born knowing how to swim, but I didn't bother to learn when _Ada_ wanted me to." Branwen sighed.

Her mentor settled himself down upon a rock. "Why did you not learn? For as long as I have known you, you have wished to do not **but** learn." He tilted his head to one side and waited. There had to be something of a tale behind all this and he was determined to get it out of her somehow.

The princess smiled lightly at him. "It was a few years before you officially began to train me in combat, _Ada_ wished me to learn how to swim from one of the older children that swam in the spring not far from the city gates. I was actually going down to learn when I met up with some street rats. They mistook me for another of them as I had just gotten into a tussle with an older boy." Branwen blushed, but continued, "It was as though I had a second family. The street rats took care of each other as well as themselves. They assumed I was new and taught me how to pickpocket successfully and a little about cat-burglary. I learned a lot about sneaking around during both day and night, as well as a lot of lock picking. One day, we were caught by the guards for stealing from a merchant's stall. I was lucky and the guards recognized me, but made no fuss about it. None of the people found out who I was, but when I tried to save my friends the guards revealed my identity. The street rats, my best friends, were locked away in the prisons until they could be removed from the city. They never forgave me for "betraying" them as they said I had. I never betrayed them, but they insisted that I did. I've never had any friends since then and it didn't help that _Ada_ was furious about the whole mishap."

Legolas sat quietly on his rock, thinking.

Branwen bit her lip in apprehension, what would her mentor think of her now? A thief? A liar?

"I could teach you to swim if you would let me." He said finally.

"Teach me to swim? How will we find the time around all our other lessons?" She asked.

"I don't think there is any need to have regular archery lessons any longer," Legolas replied," You have already learned as much as I can teach you. Now you must teach yourself, which I have no doubt you will. We can swim every other day when we would normally practice your archery."

"But-"

Legolas held up his hand, "I know, you aren't a perfect shot yet, but sometimes other things are more important than a perfect shot. Like saving your life."

Branwen flushed, but did not protest anymore.

"Then that's settled." Legolas extended a hand to his young companion.

After a moment's hesitation, Branwen grasped his hand and was pulled to her feet.

"I think," Legolas said, "That we should probably find something to eat before our lessons today."

"Might be a good idea." The princess agreed smiling at him.

* * *

"Just keep taking deep breaths." Legolas encouraged Branwen, trying to keep her from panicking, as was her first reaction when she couldn't touch the bottom of the spring. She was still nervous about water after he incident three days earlier. 

Branwen obediently took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, keeping herself afloat. She discovered that if she fluttered her feet a little, she could move around the surface of the water while still on her back.

The Elf watched as his charge experimented with moving herself about the spring's surface. "Good job." He said, giving her an assuring smile. Legolas started teaching her how to keep herself upright in the middle of the pool without going under.

The first time Branwen tried to tread water; she splashed about wildly, trying to stay afloat. Instead, she ended up under the surface of the water.

Legolas caught her in his arms and pulled her back to the surface. "Remember, rule number one: never splash wildly about or panic. Let's try this again."

It took almost the entire morning before Branwen could keep herself above the water's surface for any length of time.

"You're exhausted," Legolas said as he helped her back to shore, "We'll try again tomorrow."

Branwen nodded as she clambered onto the banks, dripping wet and tired. She accepted a towel from Legolas and dried herself off as best she could, shaking the water from her hair.

* * *

The sun filtered down through the treetops to the pair. Warming and drying them at the same time. 

Legolas led Branwen to an open glade and lay down in the middle, allowing the sun to wash over his body.

Branwen lowered herself to lie near the Elf, her hands beneath her head. The white clouds drifted lazily overhead, forming shapes.

For several minutes, they lay listening to the forest. Birds were singing sweetly in the trees, leaves rustled as the wind rifled through them, from where they lay, Branwen could hear the roaring of the river.

"Legolas?" She said, suddenly rolling onto her side, lying so that she faced him.

Legolas opened his eyes and turned his head to the side. "Yes?"

"I was wondering about you. I mean, about your past. You know basically everything about me, you've been in Minas Tirith almost every day since I was born. Yet, I know nothing of your past or you." Branwen stopped talking and watched the Elf curiously to see what reaction she'd get from him.

Legolas stared up at the endless sky. "There's not much to tell you. I was born, I've fought, I've killed, and I've lived. What more to tell is there?"

The Gondorian princess growled slightly, two could play this stubborn game. "If I did my history like that it would be even shorter. I was born, I've trained, and I've lived. Tell me about your family, your father." She poked subjects at him.

The Elf lay still for a few moments longer, then began speaking. "My father as you have probably heard was, is, King Thranduil of Northern Mirkwood. He raised my brother and I."

"You have a brother?" Branwen interrupted. She hadn't known about his brother.

Legolas gave her a pointed look and the girl fell silent.

"My brother was older than I, my parents' first child. My mother died giving birth to my little sister. My sister did not make it for more than a few days; she couldn't survive outside of the womb. I don't really remember much about my mother, save that she was beautiful. She was half nymph some said. Her name was Vanya, beautiful. She had raven hair that seemed to hold the night itself in its folds and light blue eyes that reminded me of the stars. Father loved her dearly, and when she died he was changed. My brother left for Rivendell and we never saw him again. Father was heartbroken for Rochendil, my brother, very much resembled our mother. I believe that is why he left. I was the only child that remained and was raised alone."

Silence fell once more upon them as Branwen absorbed all this new information.

Legolas spoke again. "I used to be a lot like you. I had a few friends, like you and they were taken from me. Two of my best friends, we discovered, didn't know how to swim. They fell into the river that runs through the forest and were swept downstream. The humans in a village about 60 miles to the South found their bodies in the river a day later. The remaining three of us were guilt ridden. Our friends had died and we had done nothing to save them. One killed himself a few days later and the other went off to fight an attack on his village. He was badly wounded and died a short time later. I then devoted all of my time to my fighting and reading. Father almost had to pry me out of what I had begun to call 'my library' on a regular basis." Legolas rolled over to look at his companion. His calm gray eyes met hers and held them quite steadily, catching her eyes as they ran up and down his prone form.

The princess blushed and looked quickly away. _Stupid hormones!_ She thought, forcing her mind off of her previous thoughts. Most of which had been something along the lines of _Whoa! He's really good looking!_ Or _Do all Elves look as absolutely gorgeous as Legolas?_ She hated being a teen girl, and this was one of those reasons. Hormones! Now there was something she would rather do without.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Legolas waved his hand in front of her face.

Branwen blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Legolas laughed, "I wasn't saying anything, but you were just staring off into the distance as if you'd suddenly left your body."

She smiled, "No, just thinking."

The Elf played with a strand of Branwen's soggy brown hair.

"What was I like as a baby?" Branwen asked him.

"Odd." Legolas replied promptly, "Though not unduly so."

"What do you mean?" The princess cocked her head to one side.

"The day you were born, your father placed you in my arms and you awoke. The first thing you did was grab my hair and try to stuff it in your mouth." Legolas laughed, as Branwen blushed crimson. "I made an absolute fool of myself over you. At which point your parents burst out laughing."

Branwen smiled, her emerald eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Then in one fluid motion, she stood up. "My clothes are dry." She told Legolas.

He, too, rose and examined his clothes. "As are mine. Well, shall we return to camp?" He offered her his arm.

With a grin, she slipped her arm through his. "Simply lead the way."

* * *

**A/N: Feel free to hit me over the head if my story becomes too cliche. I have problems with that.**


	3. The Trip: The Picture

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

Branwen sat on a tree limb, her long brown hair still damp from her swim shortly before. In her hands was a sketchbook, and she was drawing.

"You are very talented." Someone said from behind her, nearly startling her out of the tree.

The princess turned and found herself face-to-face with Legolas.

The Elf smiled at her and slid himself onto a nearby tree limb. "You draw often?"

"Well, not very often. Not recently." The girl smiled quickly before turning beck to her drawing. It was a young woman, but she wore strange clothing. Clothing unlike anything the women of Middle Earth ever wore. The girl wore strange leggings with rips at the knees, a shirt that ended just above her stomach, and a jacket over the shirt. Branwen had seen herself wearing these clothes in a dream she had a few days before she had left Minas Tirith on this trip.

Legolas watched as his charge ran the charcoal lovingly over the paper, detailing the figure before her. He had never known that she enjoyed sketching. Yet she was very talented and had probably been drawing for years. He noticed that the picture she was currently working on was in the center of her pad of parchment.

"Do you have other drawings with you?" He asked, glancing at her pad.

Branwen nodded, biting her lower lip as she added another line to what seemed an already perfected piece of the picture. She didn't really want anyone to look at her drawings, they were solace from the trials of her days. The only time she was truly happy was when she was drawing, it gave her release.

_Please don't ask me to show the pictures to you._ She pleaded silently with Legolas.

"May I look at them, please?"

Branwen winced and slowly handed over her notebook. She didn't want him to see the drawings, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. _It's not like you've ever been really nice to him before, why is it so important now? _The princess hid her thoughts carefully as Legolas took the book.

The Elven Prince flipped to the first page and gazed down at the pictures. As he flipped from page to page he saw figures drawn doing various activities and it strange clothes. Several pictures were of Branwen's family, Arwen and Aragorn were depicted as they embraced in the palace gardens. Legolas' hand froze as he turned the page. His eyes roved over the drawing. Branwen had drawn him as he lay in the grass after one of their swims. His eyes were closed and tiny water droplets glistened on his bare chest. His hair and leggings were still wet and shone slightly in the sun's light.

Legolas looked up at Branwen only to discover she was gone. He looked around and saw her walking back towards the camp.

He glanced back at the book, and flipped to the next page.

This image was of Branwen. She had drawn herself lying across her bed weeping, her weapons thrown down beside the bed. One of her fighting knives lay on the bed near her and her pillows were slashed to bits. Feathers lay around the room, and blood painted the walls and soaked the sheets. On the wall above her bed was written, 'My smiles hid my tears, and you couldn't see past the smiles to save me.'

Legolas slid out of the tree, the now closed book in his hand. He followed Branwen back to the camp.

"Branwen?" Legolas said softly as he down beside her. She was staring blankly into the fire, watching the tongues of flames with intense interest. "Hey, you're a talented artist." He set the book in her lap, hoping that he might draw something out of her, like an explanation of her picture.

"Thank you." Branwen said softly. She didn't look at him, and judging from the coaxing in his voice he wanted to know about her blood picture. In one swift motion she stood up and gave a forced smile before she disappeared into her tent.

**I'm kinda in a weird mood at the moment, thus explaining the suicidal picture. Yeah, it's creepy, but that's just me at the moment. It will get more interesting soon.**


	4. The Trip: The Stranger

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Branwen sat beside the pool where she often swam. She was thinking, thinking about her past, the present, and her future. As much as she tried to deny it, she was the same as any peasant girl. She wanted to have friends she could trust with any secret. She wanted a simple life with smaller expectations. She wanted someone to love her. She wanted… Branwen stopped her list of "I wants". "It doesn't matter what I want. I'm a princess, and it is my duty to what is needed of me." She whispered softly, hugging her knees to her chest. The princess stared at her reflection in the water below her. The reflection rippled and a second figure appeared behind Branwen. The princess whirled around.

A stranger was standing behind her. The stranger couldn't have been much older than Branwen herself, perhaps only 17 years old. He wore tattered uniform and dried blood and dirt coated his face. "Help me, please." He whispered hoarsely. The young man collapsed on the mossy ground beside the pool.

Branwen gentled touched the stranger's face and wiped away a bit of the grime covering it. She noticed a shiny spot on the young man's uniform. When she touched it, her fingers came away bloody. In that moment, Branwen almost panicked. She had no idea how to deal with this. She could set broken arms, and Heal minors cuts. But this was far beyond her skills as a Healer. She had to get Legolas, but she couldn't leave the wounded young man. Then she remembered her horn. She blew three clear notes.

Legolas' head shot up as he heard the sounding horn. He almost raced out of camp without thinking, but realized quickly that she was signaling for medical aid. He snatched up the satchel just inside the door of his tent and raced towards the horn.

Branwen carefully peeled away the stranger's blood-soaked tunic. She bit her lower lip as she stared at the damaged body before her.

The young man had multiple lacerations on his chest and abdomen. The tip of an arrow was embedded in his side.

With gentle fingers, Branwen began to clean the jagged openings with her handkerchief. She examined the young man's face as she cleaned his chest. He was semi-unconscious, but whenever her fingers brushed one of the lacerations, his face contorted in pain.

The soft rustling of brush signaled Legolas' arrival. Legolas took in the site before him. Branwen was kneeling beside a nearly unconscious young man, cleaning the dirt and blood away from his wounds. The Elf knelt opposite Branwen. "How long has he been like this?"

"Only a few minutes." She replied, rinsing her kerchief in the pool.

Legolas nodded and pulled several jars of salve out of his satchel. He began to spread it over the cleaned lacerations.

For several moments the pair worked in relative silence. The stillness was broken only by the young man's moans.

Legolas then noticed the arrow head in the young man's side. With gentle fingers, he pried the head from the flesh. Blood flooded out of the opening. The Elf quickly placed a thick pad of wool over the wound and bound it in place.

"We have to get him to the city. He's too badly wounded to stay out here a second longer." Legolas told Branwen, "Run back to camp and get ready to leave. I shall be there soon."

Branwen leapt to her feet and sprinted towards the camp.

By the time Legolas had arrived, the camp was packed onto the horses' backs. He smiled in approval at his pupil as he mounted with the now unconscious young man before him.

"Let's get him back to the city." He said softly.

Branwen nodded and spurred her horse out of the forest.

Legolas followed close behind, holding the wounded young man tightly.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Branwen arrived at the city first. The guards recognized her almost immediately and opened the gates for her. She raced through the city towards the palace. Legolas had ordered her to get her father's help. The princess ignored the stares and smirks directed her way as she raced headlong through the city, up through the levels of the city. The palace guards saw her coming and opened the gates quickly.

Aragorn and Arwen ran from the palace to meet their eldest child.

"_Ada, Nana_," Branwen gasped out, "Legolas is coming with a wounded man. He needs help, fast!"

Aragorn thanked his daughter and began calling out orders.

Arwen gently led her daughter away to her bedroom.

At first Branwen tried to resist, but her mother's firm insistence pushed her along. As soon as the princess was in her own chambers, she collapsed, asleep, across her bed.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**Kinda short, I know. But I'm writing this at 11 pm and I'm dead tired. School was busy and trying to get passed all the wierdos dressed up for Halloween was a freaky experience. So, good night my dear readers, please don't forget to review.**


	5. Branwen's Plan

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**I'm back finally! It took me forever to figure out how to continue with this story, but I've done it! I'll explain a bit more about Branwen's actions in the next chapter. Please just read and review!**

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Darien was one of the soldiers in the company I sent to aid Rohan in the fight near their northeastern border. Not far from Mirkwood's borders. He reported that several companies of Elves had joined forces with the remains of Rohan's original seven companies. During the following battle the combined forces were overwhelmed. The Elves were driven back to their border while the Rohirrim and Gondorian soldiers were surrounded and most were killed. A few of the soldiers in better condition were taken as prisoners. Darien does not know what exactly his captors planned to do with him and the others, but he suspects they were to become slaves. After meeting up with the Harad Road just south of Minas Tirith, his captors started moving faster as if they expected someone to be following them. They had just crossed the bridge over the River Poros when Darien and the other captives attempted to escape. Darien was the only one who made it back alive. From what I could gather, his traveling companion died shortly before he stumbled upon Branwen at the pool." Aragorn leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

The men sitting around the table sat in grim silence as they pondered the problem facing them.

"Legolas, I suggest you return to Mirkwood. It sounds as though there is trouble brewing near your home. Apparently, four Elven villages had been annihilated by the time Darien's company reached the battle site."

Legolas nodded at his friend's council. "I shall leave in the morning."

Aragorn gazed around at his councilors, "I intend to send another 2 companies with Legolas to offer him protection and as a helping force for the overwhelmed border guard of Rohan. I do not intend to leave our allies to fight this battle alone."

Branwen crouched in the shadows of the great fireplace, listening to the conversation. She was intrigued. A battle sounded very exciting and it would be the perfect way to prove to everyone in Gondor that she was a warrior, not some porcelain doll to be coddled.

The young princess crept back along the passage way to her rooms. She was glad she had discovered the passage way hidden in one of her closets years ago as she used it quite often when trying to slip out unnoticed. It only took a few minutes to gather her weapons, armor, and a few necessary items. It would be the extra food that would be difficult to get a hold of.

Branwen slipped through a side tunnel in the closet passage way and into the kitchen. The cook was no where in sight and the kitchen helpers were gone with her. A few loaves of bread sat unattended on the kitchen table along with a large wedge of cheese. The princess slipped them into her bag and searched for some dried meat. This she found in the pantry. After a few more moments of searching, Branwen decided she had enough food and quickly filled her water skins. She had to be in the forest and ready to join the companies the moment they were ready to leave.

The final thing she did was pull out her scissors from the sowing basket she seldom touched. A few moments later saw her brown hair lying in limp strands across the floor of her room. She gazed at herself in the mirror and ran her hand through her roughly cut, short brown hair.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Branwen was sitting silently in the forest, waiting to join with the soldiers leaving for Rohan, when three more young boys on horses arrived beside her.

"Are you going to join up with the army too?" a tall young man asked. He wore armor that looked to be his older brother's and rode an old horse that could have fought in the battle of Pelennor Fields. The two boys behind him wore armor in even worse condition, but their horses were a bit more battle worthy.

"I am," the princess finally replied, trying hard to get her voice to sound like a boy's.

All three of the boys eyed her armor and horse with envy. Branwen felt a bit uncomfortable, but tried to ignore the looks.

"I'm Jessy," the tall boy introduced, holding out a hand to Branwen. She took it hesitantly.

"I'm Bran—" She quickly thought up a new name before she blew her cover. "I'm Brandell."

"Nice to meet you, Brandell," Jessy said with a grin. He shook her hand heartily. His two friends quickly followed suit.

"My name's Minden," introduced a boy with a shock of black hair peeking out from beneath his helmet. He nodded in the third boy's direction. "That's my twin, Arden. He's mute, but he's a good fighter."

Arden gave a small salute to acknowledge Branwen, now Brandell.

Before the boys could say anything further, Branwen heard the stomp of heavy boots on the road and the clop of horses' hooves.

She nudged her horse forward with the other three boys close behind her. All four horses snorted nervously as the dusty column moved towards them.

The man in the lead held up a hand and reigned in his horse. The troops behind him stopped moving.

"Take a break, men!" he called back. Then he and a second figure trotted their horses over to the four boys.

Branwen felt her stomach twist around horribly as she recognized the second figure as Legolas. His leather armor was streaked with dust from the road and his golden hair was trying to escape from the tight warrior braids.

"What are four boys like you doing off the farms and so far away from home?" the man, obviously the captain, asked. He glanced over the four in front of him. He doubted any of them had seen a single day of battle or anything more than a brief scuffle in their lives.

"We want to join up and fight to help Rohan too!" Jessy said proudly.

Legolas vaguely recognized three of the boys as stable hands who had been getting the horses ready for the army the night before. The forth boy was sitting on a fine battle mare very quietly.

"I bet your parents are worried sick over you boys," the captain told them. "You better get on home."

"Sir," Legolas butted in. "Those boys are orphans who work in the King's stables."

The captain raised an eyebrow and looked the boys over again. He shrugged and jerked his thumb towards the resting soldiers. "Get in line with us, but you boys stay out of the way when the real fighting begins."

The boys grinned and started past the two.

Legolas stuck an arm out and caught the forth rider across the chest. The boy reigned in his horse with an experienced hand.

"Who are you?" Legolas asked.

Jessy appeared beside the rider. "His name's Brandell and he's with us."

The elf looked at the other two boys who nodded emphatically. He waved Brandell through, but resolved to keep an eye on the silent boy.

The captain called the men back into marching formation with the four new recruits close by so he could keep an eye on them. The march began anew.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

It was after dark when the soldiers finally settled in for the night.

Legolas stayed with the captain, overseeing the camp setup.

"Our new recruits did themselves proud today," the captain commented as he watched the four boys slide from the saddles. Or rather, he noted with a small snort of laughter, the three stable hands practically fell out of the saddle while the forth boy slid down with gentle grace.

"That forth boy is a strange one. He's got good armor and a sturdy battle mare. There's obviously been some training involved for him," the captain observed out loud.

Legolas nodded and stood up. "I think I'll go over and talk with him a moment. Neither of us could see his face under that helmet and he never spoke. I'd like to find out what his intentions are."

The captain watched the elf slip through the crowded camp towards the boy with silence in his steps. He couldn't figure out what had caught the elf's attention. Sure, it wasn't everyday a boy with good armor and a good horse showed up to recruit on the spot, but any and all help was appreciated.

Branwen slipped her armor off and allowed the night air to cool her body. The armor was hot and heavy and had left the tunic and breeches beneath them soaked in sweat. She hoped that all her precautions had effectively hidden any sign of her feminity. The band around her small breasts was tight, but it was very much needed.

"Boy," a voice said, startling Branwen. Her knife was in her hand as she whipped around and found herself face-to-face with Legolas.

Legolas studied the boy in front of him. He had well defined muscles and the look of a fighter. A glint at the boy's side betrayed the knife in his hand. The boy was ready to attack on a moment's notice. Legolas moved his eyes to the boy's face. Most of it was hidden by a leather mask with slight opening for nostrils and mouth. The mask ended just below the boy's dark brown eyes. Short brown hair framed the hidden face.

"Put that away, boy," Legolas ordered. "I'm not about to attack you."

Branwen slid the knife back into her sleeve and settled back against a tree trunk.

"Why the mask?" Legolas asked as he settled on his heels.

"I was burned by acid when I was little," was the quiet reply.

"Acid?" Legolas looked curiously at the boy. Few people in Gondor had access to acid.

"My father was a studier of rocks," the boy explained with a shrug. "He used it to identify rocks. I was playing in his shop one day and knocked over a vial. It splashed across my cheeks and nose and burned the flesh. He gave me the mask to hide the damage."

Legolas nodded and continued to watch the boy. "How did a boy whose father studied rocks get training in combat and horsemanship?"

Branwen scowled to herself. Legolas was bound and determined to undermine her story. Whether or not he recognized her still remained to be seen.

"After my parents died in a fire I worked at a nearby lord's mansion. One of his guards took pity on a deformed stable boy and started training me in combat. He even taught me to ride a warhorse." Branwen stopped talking and prayed that Legolas would buy the explanation.

Apparently he did. "Welcome to our company then, Brandell," Legolas said as he stood up. He strode away into the crowd.

Branwen wondered why, if he knew her false name, he hadn't used it previously.


	6. The Revealing Battle

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

On the third day of marching, the company reached the crossing of the river Anduin between Rohan and Rhovanion, the country in which Mirkwood lay. The forest of Southern Mirkwood was visible only a short distance from the border between the lands. Just beyond the border, before the trees lay an encampment. A Gondorian banner flew from a post at the center of the camp.

Branwen eyed the tents, it was midday yet there was no activity within. Something was not right about the camp, but few seemed to notice.

Legolas reigned in his horse a short distance from the camp. He too felt uneasy about the deserted camp.

"What is it?" the captain asked, holding up his hand for a halt.

"The camp should not be abandoned at midday," Legolas said softly. "At least the servants and camp followers would be left here."

The soldiers behind shifted and murmured amongst themselves. They sensed just how wrong the situation was.

"We will proceed with the greatest caution," the captain instructed. "Watch out for ambushers."

The column began to move forward, but Legolas dropped back with the four boys.

"When the fighting begins," he warned. "Stay back out of the way. Only fight if you are directly threatened." He moved back to the captain's side.

No sooner had the last man enter the square at the center of the camp and all hell broke loose. Men exploded from within the tents and poured out of the forest to attack the newcomers.

Branwen drew her sword, but instead of fighting pulled herself and her three companions from the fighting into a spot by the trees.

"Why'd you do that?" Jessy demanded. "We should fight!" He started back towards the battle, but Branwen cut in front of him.

"We are of little use in that fight. Those soldiers we journeyed with are experienced warriors, we would only get in their way," she told him.

Minden rode up beside Jessy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Brandell is right," he said softly. The taller boy shrugged and backed towards the trees.

"We fight only if we are needed or attacked," Branwen instructed, her sword resting in a position where it could be easily mobilized if needed. She was ready if the time came.

It seemed that the time came quickly that the four new recruits were needed. Several of the ambushers actually began to push them back into the trees while fighting other soldiers.

"Draw your swords," Branwen order as soon as she realized what was happening.

The stable boys obeyed instantly. Though no real announcement had been made, they accepted Brandell as their leader. He was the only one who seemed to know what he was doing.

"Brandell," Minden whispered from Branwen's left. "I am no swordsman. My skill lies in the bow." He had unslung the bow from his back and had a quiver full of arrows.

Branwen nodded and glanced about quickly. A tree with branches low enough to be reached from horseback was less than two horse-lengths from Minden.

"Get up in that tree," she whispered back. "I will keep you covered until you can get settled. Aim for the most vital thing you can hit."

Minden moved his horse beneath the tree branches, replaced his bow on his back and his sword in his sheath, and grasped the branch. Using his horse as a boost, he pulled himself into the tree. Branwen stayed at the base of the tree with Jessy and Arden nearby.

"I'm set," Minden called down finally.

Branwen nodded and turned her full attention to the ambushers as they drew nearer to the boys. She noted that the fight was moving into the forest, by the attackers' choice. They were the ones leading the forces further in.

Only a few minutes passed before the fight reached Branwen and her companions. A handful of fighters broke off from the group and went after the lone boys.

"Now Minden!" Branwen shouted as the men leapt forward.

Several arrows were fired at the men in quick succession. Two of the arrows pierced vital areas and the men dropped. The other men were wary now and avoided fatal shots.

Branwen charged the moment Minden's arrows turned to pick off less wary targets. Jessy and Arden followed to her left and right. The three pierced into the mass of bodies that had reached them and chopped at the unsuspecting men.

Soon the three warriors lost the initial protection they had gained by staying out of the fighting. Now men were eagerly turning on the three young recruits, trying to take out the easiest targets available.

One man hacked at Branwen's defenses with an axe; she dispatched him with a slash across the throat. A second leapt towards her with a spear aimed at unseating her. She hit the spear away with the flat of her blade and stabbed a stolen spear through the man's head as he stumbled forward.

Jessy and Arden were busy slashing at other soldiers. Arden had pulled a stout club from a holder on his horse's neck and was attacking the men with frighteningly deadly skill. Jessy was getting good at bashing his shield against the heads of attackers, stunning them long enough to run them through.

Before long, the trio found themselves deeply entrenched in the battle. Men fought and died all around them.

Branwen chanced a glance back at the tree Minden had remained hidden in. His horse had long since bolted, leaving him stranded in the leafy boughs. Two men were attempting to climb up the trunk with knives and hooks. Every now and then a blade would flash and slash at the two attackers. More men were coming to take out the boy who had already made his own mark in the battle by shooting down a fair number.

"Jessy! Arden!" Branwen shouted over the clash of weapons and armor. "Get back to Minden! He needs help!"

Over the battlefield, Legolas heard Brandell's voice. He saw the boy shouting to his companions and pointing towards a tree that men had begun to swarm up. The fourth boy was not with them and Legolas could only guess that he was in the tree under attack. The boy needed help now and his companions would not reach him in time. With speed that left the attackers stunned, Legolas leapt and fought his way to the tree.

He took out a number of men at the tree's base using sheer surprise as his ally. He glanced up as the men fell back for a moment. Nestled in the branches was one of the stable boys, sweating profusely.

"Hang in there," Legolas called up encouragingly.

The boy smiled weakly and called back, "I'm going to come down and help."

Legolas shook his head violently. "Stay put, it's safer up there. I can keep these guys off." He didn't have time to hear the boy's reaction as he was too busy with the renewed attacks.

Jessy and Arden arrived moments later and took down a few of the attackers from behind to give the elf a bit more breathing room.

Branwen continued to fight with the other soldiers. She noted that some of them appeared to have less training than she did. Several made mistakes that had long been driven from her. Her swords flashed, rescuing several from their own mistakes.

Just as it appeared that the Gondorians were winning, a sharp whistle echoed through the woods. More men poured out of their hiding places, surrounding the remaining soldiers. The trees and bushes were hindering the few horses still standing, giving the attackers the advantage they had not had out in the open.

Branwen swung off of her mare and kicked one of the attackers in the face, knocking him back into two others.

Her mare galloped through the sea of fighters, ignoring those that slashed at her, but kicking out at several. The mare was trained to get out of battle if she was dismounted and stay out until the fighting had greatly subsided.

Without the horse's height, Branwen was a full head shorter than many of the men, but that worked to her advantage. Many of the men looked right over her head and she was able to run a handful of men through before those around her actually started looking lower for attackers. In an attempt to keep herself a bit safer, she began to work her way towards the place she had last seen Jessy, Arden, Minden, and Legolas in. There she would have them at her back and more aid if she got into trouble.

Legolas glanced at the two boys beside him and signaled to the third stable boy to join in the ground fight. With a shaky nod, the boy jumped down and started stabbing at anything that threw itself at him. The fourth boy shoved his way into the tight circle beside Legolas. The elf watched the newest addition to his little group of fighters from the corner of his eye. A small smile appeared on the elf's lips as a sudden thought popped into his head. The boy's fighting style was reminiscent of Branwen's. Legolas shook his head. He knew Branwen would not be so foolish as to sneak out and join up with the soldiers. He doubted she even knew they had left until a day or two after their departure.

A sudden push by the men forced the small band apart. The three stable boys fell in one direction while Branwen and Legolas were pushed another way.

"Stay low," Legolas warned Brandell as one of the men sent a spear point toward the elf's chest.

Branwen nodded and allowed Legolas to take care of the high attacks while she took care of any low attacks. She smirked at the thought of her actually fighting in a tandem style with her mentor without him ever knowing.

The numbers of Gondorians were dwindling quickly under attacks by fresh troops. Branwen heard Jessy's furious screaming as Minden fell beneath an attacker's blade. She tried to go to their aid, but was shoved back by other fighters.

Her arms were growing tired and her sword began to seem very heavy. A sharp cut across Branwen's shoulder by an enemy sword left a large tear in her upper armor. Blood began to seep through the opening. She hissed in pain, but tried to ignore the wound.

Legolas heard the screams that accompanied the death of one of the brave stable boys. He was knocked back the moment Brandell moved to aid his friends.

"Brandell!" Legolas shouted as a sword made to take out the boy. The boy was already wounded, but managed to fall back out of the way.

Branwen was breathing hard as she got to her feet and made her way to Legolas' side. Their tandem fighting was working better than either of them could manage separately. Before Branwen could even raise her sword to aid Legolas, a spear came from out of nowhere, piercing through Legolas' right arm.

A huge man slammed into the spear butt, pushing the point through the elf's arm and into a tree. Legolas cried out in anguish as he was pinned against the tree trunk. Blood trickled out around the wood of the spear shaft and dripped to the ground. He tugged at the wood, but could not budge it. A second spear was plunged through his left hand, leaving him completely immobile.

Another of the men aimed a crossbow at Legolas' helpless body.

"No!" Branwen gasped. She ran forward, shoving men out of her way with all the strength she could muster.

The bolt flew from its bow just as Branwen staggered in front of her mentor.

"NO!!" she screamed, her hands stretched out in front of her as if she were bracing up a wall. She couldn't let her mentor die. She wouldn't watch him die. Her anger and fear burned through her veins and it felt as if her body was ready at any moment to explode.

The bolt plunged into Branwen's chest, throwing her backwards with its force. As the bolt hit, a bright light seemed to explode from her outstretched hands. The light swept over the men attacking her, killing them instantly. The ground shook with the sudden release of power and knocked men off of their feet.

Branwen sank to the ground in front of Legolas. She couldn't breath right; the bolt had made it so she could barely draw in air. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth. The world was going fuzzy and blurring. Branwen vaguely heard people shouting in Elvish. It puzzled her as no Elves but Legolas were around.

"My Lord!" Someone shouted. Legolas tore his eyes away from Brandell's swaying body. Elven warriors were bounding across the decimated battlefield with bandages. Two of them pulled the offending weapons form Legolas' limbs and wrapped bandages around the bleeding parts quickly.

"No," Legolas managed hoarsely as they turned to take him off of the battlefield. "Help that boy, he saved my life." He pointed to Brandell. The boy was barely able to stay on his knees.

The Elves nodded and rushed to the boy's aid. The bolt had pierced right through the boy's armor and run through his breast bone.

"He's losing a lot of blood," one of the Elves called to Legolas. "We need to get him a Healer now!"

Legolas nodded and allowed his people to place him on one horse. Brandell was placed just in front of another of the Elves. After the strange blast of magic from Brandell, only a few of the attackers survived to fight and were quickly rounded up. The Elves led Legolas from the scene of the battle to a medic station several miles away.

Medics swarmed around the Elven Prince and the wounded boy. Brandell was carried to a tent while Legolas' arms were inspected and treated.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

**Wow, that was not the best battle scene I've ever written. I plan to write another chapter right after this gets posted. I'm trying to update several of my stories before I head of to Europe for three weeks with no Internet. **


	7. A Path Decided

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**A/N: I am only a fan of Tolkien's work, not a die-hard fan, not a crazily-obsessed fan. I have not read every books Tolkien ever wrote for several reasons:**

**1) I live in a place that is in a black hole. We get very few things without expensive shipping fees.**

**2) I am poor. I can't afford those expensive shipping fees.**

**In light of those facts, please don't start yelling at me for having messed up timelines or people in strange places. This is a fan**_**fiction**_**, not something that could have been written by Tolkien, because, likely as not, he wouldn't approve of over half of the LotR stories out in cyberspace. So please, be nice to me. I just thought I'd put this up while I'm still thinking about some of the comments I've received on various sites about things relating to my stories.**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Legolas rested on a pile of cushions in one of the tents the Elven Healers had set up. His left hand was heavily bandaged, as was his right arm just above the elbow. The Healers had told him that the wounds would be fully healed within a month thanks to the ability to heal quickly all Elves possessed.

The elf wondered what had become of Brandell. The boy was no Elf and recovery would be much longer and harder for him. The bolt had pierced deeply into his body. Since the Healers had taken him into their care, Legolas had heard nothing.

"My lord," a Healer said softly, bowing. "There is something you should come see."

Legolas got to his feet and followed the Healer to the tent Brandell had been taken into. His heart felt as though it had stopped beating and it took several moments before Legolas could convince his body to take in oxygen properly.

Brandell's leather mask had been removed and the blankets had been moved aside to reveal the gentle, bandage-covered curves of a young woman's body. Without the mask and hiding armor, Legolas recognized Brandell for who he, or rather she, really was.

"Branwen," he choked out. She had followed him into battle and then nearly died. "You stupid, stupid girl." He made his way to her bedside and knelt beside her.

Her face was far paler that it ever should have been. Her skin was clammy and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Humans are not nearly so easy to work with as Elves," one of the Healers told him softly from behind. "She has been battling an illness and the aftershock of using such a powerful spell."

Legolas could not understand how magic as powerful as Branwen's had lain dormant for so long. It was beyond anything he'd ever heard of. Even Celebrian's magic had appeared very early. Celebrian's magic had been weaker than Galadriel's and Arwen's magic had been weaker than Celebrian's. Then out of nowhere came Branwen's power.

Sleep like death had claimed Branwen. The Healers said that it was to keep her from injuring herself any further. Her body had to recover from the bolt wound and the magic's aftershock. Legolas could only wait for her to awake.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The sound of the wind through trees and gentle whispers of silk in the breeze were all Branwen could hear when she awoke. She kept her eyes closed and listened to the soothing sounds for several long minutes.

"I know you're awake," a familiar voice said from beside her. "You may as well open yours eyes."

Branwen slowly opened her eyes and immediately shut them. The room was bright. After a few moments of rapid blinking, the princess regained control of her vision.

Her eyes, however unwilling she was to let them, traveled to the being beside her, Legolas. The bandages on his arm and hand drew her attention immediately.

"Do they hurt much?" she asked, gesturing to his wounds.

"They are very nearly healed," Legolas told her. His face remained impassive and his tone was neutral.

Branwen knew Legolas well enough to figure out his mood.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Branwen lowered her eyes to the bed covers.

"Should I not be?" the elf demanded. "You scared your parents to death by disappearing and then you nearly were killed in a battle you shouldn't have joined in the first place. The Healers were not even sure you'd make it through the first few days in their care. You are very lucky the bolt did not hit anything vital." His tone changed slightly, conveying his anger.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to show everyone that I am not someone that's everyone needs to treat like a child." The princess picked at the invisible lint on the sheets.

"Branwen," Legolas said. "The only thing that stunt proved was that you have to be treated like a child. Sneaking out of the palace to join a battle you shouldn't have joined, not even leaving a message for your parents, and totally ignoring your responsibility to the people of Gondor by putting your life in danger are not ways to prove you are an adult."

"The hell with my 'responsibility' to Gondor!" Branwen snarled. "I never asked to be a princess! I would rather just be a normal girl!"

"You aren't normal, Branwen," Legolas retorted. "You are royalty and have a responsibility to your people. What you want has no bearing right now."

Before either could say another word, the door opened to admit Arwen and Aragorn.

"Branwen!" Arwen gasped. She all but raced to her daughter's side. Her arms encircled her eldest child in a tight embrace. "Don't you ever do that again!" she started angrily. "You could have died!"

Aragorn stood just behind his wife, his arms crossed over his chest. "What in the name of the Valar got into you that you were possessed to do such a foolish thing?"

"I'm sorry, _Ada, Nana_," she whispered. Tears filled her eyes. She hadn't meant to make the three most important people in her life angry with her. She had wanted them to be so proud of her.

"Arwen, forgive me for interrupting." Lord Elrond stood in the entrance of the room. "Galadriel wishes to speak with you and Estel."

The queen rose from her daughter's bedside and took her husband's arm. "We will return shortly, Branwen," she told her daughter before they followed Elrond out.

"Legolas," Elrond called back. "You should be present as well."

The Elven Prince nodded and stood. When he reached the door he turned back to Branwen with a small smile. "For all the trouble you caused, you are a skilled fighter." With that comment he left Branwen alone.

A smile split the young princess' face. At least Legolas had thought she did well. That made things a bit easier to take.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Branwen fiddled with the hem of her cloak as she sat in the saddle. Her chest ached, not from the wound which had been healing for the past four months, but from sadness.

"Branwen," Arwen said softly from beside her daughter's leg. "This isn't permanent. We aren't banishing you. Galadriel is only taking you from us for a few years. You have to be trained. Your powers are too great to be allowed to remain untrained." She touched her daughter's cheek. "On your eighteenth birthday you will be returned to us. We will still see each other fairly often the next few years. Don't worry about anything."

"I'll miss you," the princess whispered. She knew it had to be this way. Untrained, she was as likely to kill her family as she was to kill the enemy. The magic she had used was luckily so firmly aimed at the enemy that it could strike no other. But what would happen next time if she was not so firmly focused on destroying her enemy?

Her father stepped up behind his wife. He took her small pale hand in his much larger, sword-calloused palm.

"We will await your return with impatient hearts," he told her. The king gently squeezed his eldest child's hand. "The palace will be quiet without the screams of servants as you startle them. And maybe your hair will be one color when you return to us." He smiled at his daughter and ruffled her multi-colored locks. Her normally brown hair had surprised everyone by growing out into blonde strands. Her hair was now just long enough to be pulled back into a band.

Branwen smiled at her father and returned his light hand squeeze. She looked around for Legolas. He was nowhere in sight.

"Where is Legolas, _Ada_?" she asked.

"Legolas has returned to Mirkwood for a time and will return to Minas Tirith when he is ready. He has expressed an interest in attempting to train Eldarion in the bow once Faramir has finished with the sword," replied her father.

Branwen could not help but feel disappointed she could not say "good-bye" to Legolas. She shrugged off the feeling as she turned to face her great-grandmother.

"Are you ready, my child?" Galadriel asked in her soft, lilting voice.

"Yes, _Daernana_," she replied.

"Then let us be on our way," she said. The she-elf turned her horse towards the gates of Rivendell where Branwen had been living since her injury.

The princess turned her horse after her great-grandmother. She didn't dare to look back at her parents for fear she would start crying. No matter what her parents said, it still felt like she was being banished.


	8. A Tense Reunion

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**A/N: I am only a fan of Tolkien's work, not a die-hard fan, not a crazily-obsessed fan. I have not read every book Tolkien ever wrote for several reasons:**

**1) I live in a place that is in a black hole. We get very few things without expensive shipping fees.**

**2) I am poor. I can't afford those expensive shipping fees.**

**3) I AM NOT obsessed with Tolkien's work! I HAVE NOT and PROBABLY NEVER WILL read all of Tolkien's work regarding Middle Earth. **

**In light of those facts, please don't start yelling at me for having messed up timeliness OR people in strange places OR things not totally in sync with the laws/customs/etc. of the various peoples of Middle Earth. This is a fanfiction, not something that could have been written by Tolkien, because, likely as not, he wouldn't approve of over half of the LotR stories out in cyberspace. So please, be nice to me. I just thought I'd put this up while I'm still thinking about some of the comments I've received on various sites about things relating to my stories. I am a **_**FANFICTION**_** writer, NOT a Tolkien copy. **

"Steady, Branwen," Galadriel said softly. Her voice was calm and soothing. "You must focus on your target or you will injury yourself or someone nearby."

Branwen tightened the focus of her magical grip. The boulder she was lifting high above the earth was at least 100 times her size and weight. Her task was to move the boulder from the edge of a village it had narrowly missed only days before in a huge rock slide and transport it to the base of what would become a barricade. With all the steadiness she could muster, Branwen set the boulder down where the villagers had directed her. The villagers cheered as the massive boulder sank into place.

The princess sank to the ground, utterly exhausted by the exercise. Her blonde hair stuck to her face in a mess of sweat and mud. The boulder had only been her last piece of work. Her task at the start had been to move piles of mud away from the base to patch up other walls.

"Come, Branwen," Galadriel called. "We have work to do at home." She mounted her own horse.

Branwen inwardly groaned as she mounted her mare. The "work" was getting ready for the party Galadriel and Celeborn has insisted on throwing in honor of her sixteenth birthday. Her only consolation was that her parents were coming with Eldarion and Branwen's new twin sisters.

**Two Nights Later**

"_Ada_! _Nana_!" Branwen cried joyously as her parents embraced her. Her younger brother was now much taller than she and he scooped her up in a tight hug. The twins just peered curiously at the young woman from behind Arwen's skirt.

"Oh come now, Arya, Adlaya," Arwen coaxed, "greet your older sister."

The twins gave Branwen shy smiles and waved before ducking back behind their mother's skirt.

Aragorn chuckled as he touched his daughter's long golden locks.

"I remember how excited I was that my firstborn should have hair as impossible as mine," he reminisced. "Now you have hair fairer than your mother's."

The princess smiled. She stepped back as her parents greeted Galadriel, Celeborn, and other Elves they knew. A gentle touch to her arm surprised her.

"Princess," a young guard addressed her. He smiled at Branwen.

"Yes?" she replied.

"Your father has asked me to be your partner for the evening of your party," the young man informed her. "I felt that perhaps you would prefer to have a chance to meet me when not in an awkward situation."

Branwen scrutinized her new partner. He looked familiar.

"Where have I seen you before?"

"I found you by accident at a pool three years ago. You and . . ." Here the guard faltered. "Your mentor? Saved my life."

"You are Darien?" Branwen asked, recognition suddenly appearing on her face. This was the same young soldier that had startled her at the pool during her trip with Legolas.

"Yes," he said. "Perhaps we can talk away from the others? I was wondering a few things."

Branwen raised and eyebrow, but accepted the arm he offered her.

"You probably don't remember me. We met long before that day in the forest," Darien told her.

"We did?" Branwen was very confused. She wracked her memories for someone like Darien. No one matched the name or face in her memories.

"It's not surprising that you don't remember me," he said quickly. "I, uh, left Minas Tirith when I was young."

"'Left?' It sounds more like you were tossed out," Branwen mentioned.

"That is more accurate," Darien admitted. "You probably knew me better by the ridiculous name I picked for myself: 'The Daring Scorpion.'"

Branwen stopped dead in her tracks.

"You," she breathed. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again. How did you ever manage to join the guard?"

"By changing my name," he replied easily. "I just stuck a few syllables of my old name together and found my new name." Darien turned to Branwen with a grin. "As I recall, you were known as 'Little Mouse.'"

Branwen blushed. "I had almost hoped no one would remember that name."

He laughed. "You were just like a mouse. You could fit through all the spots the rest of us couldn't, you were fast, and you were quiet. Though I think 'Little Tigress' would have fit you better during a fight. My name never did fit me very well."

The princess shook her head, a smile playing across her lips.

"I don't know," she replied. "You were very fast to strike. I don't think a single merchant ever caught you." She paused for a moment, her eyes becoming unfocused as she thought back to one of his fastest movements. "You also caught me as I fell."

Darien looked at her, startled. "You remember that? I thought you would have forgotten all about it."

Branwen shook her head. "No, I just didn't think about it. It should have been one of my first lessons against impulsiveness." She smiled sheepishly.

"I wanted to talk to you after your father Healed me, but I couldn't find you," Darien said. "I hoped that you would remember me. That maybe we could rekindle our old friendship." He looked hopefully at her.

"Of course we can now," Branwen answered.

"Excellent," Darien said. "But what exactly happened to you? All I know is that suddenly you were moved here."

Branwen looked at the ground awkwardly, watching the fallen leaves pass slowly beneath her moving feet.

"I did something really stupid," she told him. "I, uh, got involved in a battle. My father sent troops to escort Lord Legolas home to Mirkwood and help the others fighting up there. I sneaked in, disguised as a boy."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it was really stupid of me," she admitted. "I can't wear certain dresses or clothes because of it; or rather I have to wear certain garments."

"You got hurt?" Darien asked, shocked.

Branwen nodded and stopped walking. She slowly lifted the shimmering shawl that had been wrapped around her shoulders and draped over her chest. There, in the middle of her chest, just above her neckline, was a nearly white splotch. The skin there was slightly puckered.

"A crossbow bolt hit me," she informed him as the shawl dropped back into place.

"How did it hit you so squarely?" Darien asked as they resumed their walking.

"I jumped in front of Lord Legolas," she whispered. "I was afraid to see my mentor die."

"You were mentored by Lord Legolas?" Darien gasped in surprise. He had wanted to be trained by the skilled Elf once, but no one had ever been accepted as a student. "How did you get him to accept you as a student?"

Branwen blushed at her companion's intense gaze.

"Legolas and my father have been friends for many years. They met long before the Fellowship ever left Rivendell," she told him.

"So Lord Legolas is _the_ Legolas of the Fellowship of the Ring?"

"Yes."

The two walked in silence for a moment.

"I really don't pay much attention to anything," Darien chuckled.

Branwen laughed.

Darien began to talk about the times they'd shared together on the streets of Minas Tirith, dodging guards and angry merchants.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Legolas," Aragorn greeted, clapping his friend on the back. "I trust your journey was a pleasant one?"

"It was," was the short reply. Legolas glanced at the small human twins that danced around Haldir in a game. Their giggling brought out the memory of Branwen's laughter when she was still so young. For the Elf the past three years had been unbearably long. He had only just gotten to know his young charge and she was taken from him. He missed her quick wit and fast learning. Her brother was no replacement for her.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's voice broke into his friend's thoughts.

"I'm sorry," the prince apologized.

"Have you seen Branwen yet?"

Legolas shook his head. "I have not."

Aragorn smiled then and said, "You may want to greet her. I believe she has gone off with Guard Darien. I assigned him as her partner for the party. He is a level headed young man who seems to truly like her."

"Like her?"

"It is strange, a few moments with him and Branwen's face lit up with a smile I have not seen in years," Aragorn revealed. "They began to talk immediately as if they were old friends. Though, in all her time in Minas Tirith she never had one constant human companion."

Legolas' attention was captured by the return of Branwen and Darien. The Elf recognized Darien as the injured soldier that had cut short the trip with Branwen. He watched jealously as Branwen extended her hand for Darien to gently kiss. How dare that boy touch the princess so intimately?

Branwen did not even turn in Legolas' direction until Darien had left her sight. She had never been as happy as she was now. To have one of her friends back, after all these years, was amazing and to have him not believe she had betrayed him was a bonus.

"Branwen," Aragorn called to his daughter. She turned and saw her father and Legolas. A delighted smile crossed her face. Forgetting all pretense of serenity, she ran to greet her mentor. Her mother could only blink in surprise as the princess rushed past.

"You shouldn't run in front of your mother like that," Legolas reprimanded when Branwen had stopped running.

At the rebuke Branwen's smile disappeared and was replaced with her mask of solemnity. Legolas felt his throat tighten painfully as the young woman's radiant smile vanished. He had not meant to sound so angry.

"Yes, sir," she whispered half-heartedly. She curtsied to her father and Legolas before making an excuse to leave their presence.

Aragorn at least did not remark upon the exchange, or lack thereof and simply engaged his friend in conversation.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Branwen sat quietly in her chair, a book in her hands. For the past hour she had simply sat and stared at the same page, unless a servant came in or someone wished to speak with her. Then, perhaps, she would turn the page or simply move her eyes over the same sentence over and over again until the disturbance had vanished.

Her heart was heavy. Legolas had not even deigned to return her smile. Rather, he had greeted her with a rebuke. Branwen had hoped that he would not still be angry with her. It seemed that she was mistaken.

A servant once again interrupted her "reading" to announce that the evening meal was to be served.

Branwen rose from her chair and summoned her evening gown. The dress fit itself over her body and tied all the laces itself. Then the princess lifted the concealing shawl over her head and settled it around her shoulders. She touched the spot where the bolt had struck. For a moment she wondered if Legolas would have been happier had she never stepped in front of him on that day. Perhaps they would still be friends, insofar as that was ever possible.

The princess shook the thoughts from her head and descended the stairs to the hall where her parents were waiting.

Legolas watched Branwen from his place across the table from her. She never looked up at him or anyone though he knew she was aware of those around her. No one else seemed to notice the unusual silence from the princess.

Throughout the meal she fiddled anxiously with her sleeves wherever they threatened to ride up above her palm. Her strange actions attracted Legolas' close attention and he wondered what she was so nervous about.

When the meal was over, she asked permission to be excused.

"The evening is still young, Sister," Eldarion commented. "Won't you stay with us a bit longer?"

"I find I am tired from today's excitement," she murmured, her head still bowed.

"Then rest, tomorrow is your party and we would not want you too tired for that," Celeborn consented with a smile.

Legolas made his excuses to his hosts as well and followed after the young princess.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The Elf caught up with the princess as she was ascending the stairs to her rooms.

"Branwen," he called out to her as he was only a few steps below her.

Branwen did not stop or slow. In fact she gave no sign that she'd even heard Legolas.

Legolas bounded up the steps behind her and slipped around to place himself firmly in her path.

Still she did not stop. Instead she walked right through him!

The Elven Prince did a double take. He looked around and saw a servant with an amused look on his face.

"What just happened?" he asked bewildered.

"Lady Branwen does that quite frequently," the servant chuckled. "I'm not totally sure why she developed the spell, but the story I've heard is that after the first few times she was run into after her injury she created it so she didn't get hurt so often. Now people just tend to pass right through her."

"Don't Galadriel and Celeborn find it improper?" Legolas asked.

"Not really. Lady Galadriel is not too fond of Lady Branwen's tendency to simply cast the spell whenever she leaves her rooms, but Lord Celeborn finds it highly entertaining when guests discover her ability," the servant explained. "Most of us don't mind when she walks through us, we just try to move out of the way. The only one who hates it is Lord Haldir. When he makes her mad she spends hours, sometimes even days simply following him around and walking through him at every opportunity."

"So she always walks around like that? Intangible?"

"No, just whenever she's thinking or doesn't want to speak to anyone," the servant told Legolas. "It only happens occasionally. Maybe once or twice a year she'll do that for several weeks on end. Most of the time it's only for a day or two. She could easily just float up and down through floors too, but she doesn't because it frightens some of the servants. "

Legolas thanked the servant and stepped aside to let him pass before following after Branwen again.

He caught a glimpse of her as she drifted around a corner and he quickened his pace.

"Branwen!" he called after her.

She did not respond and walked through her door.

Legolas reached the door only a moment after she'd gone through. He raised and dropped his hand hesitantly several times before finally allowing his hand to tap lightly upon the door.

There was no answer. He knocked a bit harder on the door and called out to her. Still she did not answer him.

Legolas rested his forehead against the door, his eyes closed, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in his chest. He had expected that Branwen would be angry with him for not saying good-bye to her in Rivendell and had been prepared to fight fire with fire. That seemed to be her nature, but she had proved him wrong, greeting him with an eager smile. Branwen had been ready to forgive it all.

"Stupid Elf," he muttered under his breath. Why had he not just kept silent? Perhaps the young woman would be talking to him now.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

**A/N: I'm back! With an update for a story. There's a change. My creative juices are back finally. I actually wrote this in one day rather than over the course of several months. Be proud of me. I have the next chapter planned out ahead of time for once, so now I just have to type it all out. Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	9. The Party

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

Branwen took a deep breath as she looked down from her perch at the party below her. The Elves who had arrived for the party were greeting first Galadriel and Celeborn, then Aragorn and Arwen. There were many Elves as well a few humans and, to her immense surprise, a dwarf.

"Lady Branwen?" someone called from behind her.

The princess turned to find Darien waiting at the head of the stairs for her. He was dressed in a silken tunic with the White Tree of Gondor upon his chest.

"Darien!" Branwen glided toward him, a bright smile upon her face. She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her down the stairs towards the party.

"You look beautiful tonight," he murmured in her ear. Darien's stomach fluttered when she turned her delighted smile on him.

Legolas watched as the young woman descended the stairs on the arm of the guard. He had been right three years ago when he'd seen how she'd one day become a vision of beauty. The soft blue dress looked perfect on her. Tonight she wore no shawl; rather the dress was twisted on the front to cover the scar and then wrapped around her neck. Long sleeves were secured to her arms by golden bands around her upper arms and at her wrists.

As the princess crossed the ballroom floor, many came forward to wish her a happy birthday. Many of the Elves she knew from around Lorien, some had come from Rivendell, and a few of the officials from the human villages had come.

"This enchanting girl can't possible be your daughter, Aragorn," Gimli teased, nudging his friend. "She is much too beautiful."

Aragorn chuckled, "And for a time we thought she would be more like me than her mother."

"Legolas, old friend," the dwarf said, "I can't believe that you have not placed some claim on her."

Legolas shot a startled glance at his friend. "What?"

"She is beautiful and from what I have heard from the nearby villagers, very kind and helpful. You trained her in combat and know her better than anyone else," Gimli commented.

"That is where you are mistaken," the Elf murmured. "There is one who knows her far better than I."

Gimli heard the regret in Legolas' voice and noticed that the prince had not taken his eyes off of Branwen since she had entered the party. Now, as the dancing had begun, Legolas was following her twirling figure about with his eyes.

The dwarf grinned cheekily at Aragorn and stood up from his seat. "I am going to see if your daughter would allow this old dwarf the honor of a dance or two." With that he left his two best friends behind and started after the princess.

Darien was slightly winded by the fast dances the Elves were playing. He was unused to the faster pace of Elvish dancing and Branwen was spirited.

"You look tired, lad," a deep voice said from below his eye level.

Darien looked down and Branwen lowered her eyes slightly to see the dwarf standing beside them.

"My name is Gimli, son of Gloin," the dwarf introduced with a bow. "May I have the honor of the next dance, Lady Branwen?"

Branwen glanced first at Darien who nodded at her encouragingly. "Of course!" she answered delightedly. This was the first time she had ever come into contact with one of her father's friends from the Fellowship other than Legolas. Of the dwarf, she had her many interesting tales.

Again a faster song played out. Gimli led Branwen into a series of quick steps that had them practically flying across the ground. It seemed to Branwen that such grace and agility did not quite fit with her idea of dwarves.

"You do yourself proud, lass," Gimli complimented her when the dance had ended. "I must say, you are a far better dancer than your father. I've seen him dance a few rounds and then slump into a chair all out of breath."

"Don't be telling untruths, old friend," the king chided from behind the pair.

"_Ada_!" Branwen dropped into small curtsy.

"They're no untruths," the dwarf defended. "Prove me wrong if they are."

"Very well," Aragorn conceded. He stretched his hand out to Arwen.

"Excuse me, Branwen," her father said a twinkle in his eye. "I have my honor to defend."

Branwen stepped aside to allow her parents passage. Darien reclaimed her a moment later.

"I find myself to be a rather poor dancer in comparison," the young man told her with a blush as they began yet another dance.

"You're just fine," Branwen assured him. "But when did you learn to dance?"

He laughed. "Only about a week before your father ordered us to begin the trip here."

"Well, you're doing beautifully for only learning a few weeks ago," the princess reassured him.

The dance ended and as the couple prepared to start another Legolas appeared behind Darien and tapped him on the shoulder.

"May I cut in?" he asked softly, looking more at Branwen than the young man beside him.

"Certainly, Lord Legolas," Darien said hastily. He backed away from the Elven Lord.

"Branwen," Legolas said gently, extending his hand.

Taking a breath she placed her hand gingerly in his. Legolas' hand slipped to the small of her back as a slower dance began.

"Forgive me for being so short with you yesterday," the Elf apologized.

"I forgive you," Branwen told him in a voice so soft as to be a whisper. She hesitantly allowed her eyes to move up to his face only to find herself trapped by his gray eyes.

Legolas had to stop himself from drawing in a sharp breath of surprise. Branwen's eyes were now far more blue than green. It had been a long time since he had last seen her. It had taken him several hours to realize that it really was Branwen with her golden hair last night, now he had to come to grips with the fact that the bright green eyes he had known for so long were gone.

"You look lovely," he murmured to her as she spun slowly back into his arms.

"Thank you," she whispered, an embarrassed blush creeping over her cheeks.

Legolas could tell he was making her uncomfortable. He could feel it in her tense body whenever they touched and hear it in her quiet voice. Perhaps his sharp response the previous afternoon had made her distrust him. It had taken a long time for her to even speak to him when she was young, but she had reverted almost immediately to her younger, quieter personality around him.

"I am sorry," he repeated quietly as he handed her back to her waiting escort.

Branwen did not have a chance to respond as Legolas turned and vanished into the crowd that had formed during the dancing.

The remainder of the evening she spent in Darien's company. Branwen became more relaxed as the evening wore on, talking more to him and the other guests, even laughing and smiling. All thoughts of her former mentor disappeared from her mind.

**The Next Morning**

Branwen donned her usual simple gown and shawl to bid her family farewell.

"Must you leave so soon, _Nana_?" she asked, giving Arwen a tight hug.

"I'm afraid so," the queen replied. "It's not fair for Faramir to be in charge of your father's problems for so long."

_Three days is long?_ Branwen wondered to herself. She said good-bye to her father and siblings before looking around for her friend.

Darien caught Branwen's attention with a small wave of his hand. She hurried over to say good-bye to him.

"Will I ever get to see you again?" he asked her.

"Maybe," she replied. "I may get to come home in two years for my younger brother's induction into the guard. If he makes it."

"Eldarion is a good warrior," Darien acknowledged.

Branwen gazed longingly at the armor her younger brother wore. She had once dreamed of wearing the initiate guard armor. Now she was practically banished from Gondor.

"I look forward to seeing you someday," Darien whispered as the two friends embraced for the last time. He kissed her hand before vaulting into the saddle.

Branwen stood, staring after them, longing to join them on the journey back to Minas Tirith. Her gaze rested again on Eldarion and her mouth tightened jealously. Legolas was instructing Eldarion in the same way her had instructed Branwen only a few years before. She had not been as special as he had told her after all.

Turning on her heel, Branwen strode purposefully to her workshop. She had a list of chores the villagers needed her help with.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

**A/N: Okay, so the chapter is a lot shorter than the other and definitely moves faster. I'm really excited to start work on the next few chapters so that's why it's so short. Please review!**


	10. Of Rain and Tears

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Rain fell in heavy torrents from the sky, turning dirt roads into streams of mud and former homes into piles of rubble. In the main hall of the village the people huddled together. The only thing holding the hall up was the power of the young woman who came down from the Elves.

The rain finally subsided and the sky cleared. People emerged from their dwelling to view the damage. Most of the newest houses had collapsed under the torrential rains, leaving most of the town without homes.

Branwen looked at the damage. It had to be repaired before the next storm came through. With a quick twist of her hand, her gown had been replaced by work tunic and leggings. She held her hand out over the mud, attempting to draw out the moisture so that building could begin.

As the ground dried, those whose homes had survived the rains aided the others in building homes that could hold up in another storm, another storm they knew to be approaching quickly.

The villagers were running short on supplies due to crop failures and they were short on building materials. A caravan was due to arrive in three days carrying the needed supplies from another village. Branwen intended to be there. The day the caravan was supposed to cross the nearby ravine was the day on which the next heavy rains were to fall. With all the extra rain coming, the ravine had widened considerably. The bridge supports were now precariously exposed, and two had already fallen. The bridge was incredibly weak. If it collapsed now, the villagers would likely starve. The Elves couldn't support the villagers for the time it would take to reconstruct a bridge or to get a caravan around the obstruction.

Branwen had to be present when the caravan was going to attempt the crossing to keep the bridge from collapsing beneath the precious cargo.

**Three Days Later**

Branwen took a deep breath and held her hand out over the bridge just as the rain began to fall. Not far in the distance she could hear the approaching caravan. The bridge groaned audibly as the rain fell in sheets, pounding against the punished planks. The young woman held the bridge steady in the howling wind and kept the slippery mud in place. She could not afford to fail tonight for any reason and so she shut herself off, focusing solely on the task at hand. Her shields slid effortlessly into place and her mind shut off all outside information other than that she needed to protect this caravan.

**Eight Hours Later**

Legolas was sitting up with Haldir, talking when Lady Galadriel arrived in the room.

"Branwen's gone," she told them flatly.

"Where could she have gone?" Legolas asked, looking slightly worried.

"I'm not sure," Galadriel admitted softly. "She has shut herself off from me. I can't track her when she shuts herself off. In this state anything could happen to her and I would never know. The only times she is totally shut off from me are when she does it purposely or is unconscious."

Haldir looked thoughtful for a moment.

"What about the bridge? Even though you forbid her to go, I think she may have gone on her own," he murmured.

"But which one?" Galadriel asked. "There are four bridges in danger of collapse right now."

Legolas shut his eyes for a moment. In that moment he felt a sharp tug on his mind to one direction. East. The pull startled him. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he felt strongly that it was Branwen.

"She's to the east," he told them.

Both looked at him, startled. He stood up and started for the door.

"I'm going to check on her," he announced, pulling a cloak over his head.

**At the Bridge**

Legolas arrived at the bridge in time to see the last member of the caravan guard stumble across the bridge and onto solid ground. The townspeople flocked around the newly arrived caravan, blocking Legolas' view. Then for a second the crowd parted, allowing the prince a glimpse of Branwen. She was looking incredibly pale and drained.

The crowd parted for the Elf as he strode towards her.

Branwen took a shaky step away from the bridge edge when the mud beneath her feet gave out. Completely exhausted, the girl was unable to catch herself.

Legolas was there in an instance, his body wrapped around the still grounded bridge post and his hand around her wrist.

The princess hung nearly unconscious from his grip.

"Branwen," he called to her. "You've got to hold on for a few more minutes."

She didn't seem to even hear him. Instead she sagged in his grip, her rain slicked hand sliding in the Elf's grip. Legolas realized that she had spent all her energy on her spells and now had no strength to even hold on.

With a swift tug, Legolas had pulled the princess up enough to wrap his arm around her waist. The villagers sprang into action, grasping the unconscious girl and her rescuer, pulling them away from the edge.

Branwen lay unconscious in the mud, her skin a ghostly white. Legolas checked to make sure she had no serious injuries before lifting her effortlessly into his arms and carrying her back to his horse.

**The Next Morning**

Branwen woke slowly, her head pounding. She must have used more of her magic than she had realized. Next time she would need to make sure of just how long it might take and prepare specifically for that event, and be much more careful around cliff edges.

A slight rustle of cloth beside the bed alerted her to her visitor. The girl's eyes landed on Legolas who was sitting only a few feet away, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his folding hands. His expression was blank.

"Branwen," he began. The princess didn't let him finish his sentence, she already knew what he was going to say.

"I know, I know," she muttered bitterly. "I probably scared _Daernana _and _Daerada _to death by disappearing like that and nearly got killed by getting involved in affairs that were not my own. This stunt only proved that I need to be treated more like a child. Sneaking out of the palace to stick my nose where it didn't belong, not leaving a note for _Daernana _or _Daerada_, and ignoring my responsibility to the people of Gondor were no ways to prove that I should be taken seriously." She turned her face away from the Elf.

Legolas sat quietly for a long moment. He recognized the same basic words he'd said to her nearly four years before. It shocked him that the first words she expected to hear from his mouth were words of rebuke.

"Branwen," Legolas tried again. "I was just going to say that you should be a bit more careful."

He paused for a moment. Then said, "What you did was the right thing. The villagers needed your help desperately. Without it they would have starved to death. I am not angry with you or even disappointed."

The Elf reached out and gently turned her head to face him. His gray eyes met her bright blue eyes squarely.

"Have I fallen so far in your eyes?" He stopped speaking and simply sat, staring into her eyes.

Tears filled Branwen's eyes for reasons she did not understand. Legolas lifted her up and cradled her against his chest.

They simply sat there in silence, Legolas stroking Branwen's hair as she cried. He was unsure as to the reasons behind her tears, but he chose to say nothing.

"I'm sorry," she kept whispering, over and over again. Legolas hushed her gently, reassuring her with soft strokes against her hair. He held her to him until she cried herself out and fell asleep again.

Legolas lowered the princess gently into her pillows, his fingertips lingered lightly on her cheek for a moment longer. His gaze was soft and tender. Had she awoken then, Branwen would have instantly known just how much he cared for her. She might never again have found it in her heart to say anything cruel to him.

"Rest, Branwen," he murmured, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. He left the room quickly, unsure of himself and of what had happened.


	11. Seeing Spirits

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. Legolas has known her since birth, but can he help her face her demons?**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Branwen sat quietly on her branch over the pool, watching as the spirits passed back and forth below her. She wasn't sure why this place seemed so peaceful for her when it was so crowded with spirits. Maybe it was because these spirits were Elves at peace with themselves and the way their lives had ended. They exuded a sense of joy and peace. This was her sanctuary as much as it was the spirits'. It was here she came when she needed to clear her head. Sometimes the spirits noticed the young woman watching them and they would speak to her. They told her incredible stories. Whenever one had told a story that seemed incredibly personal they would fade away and disappear. It was as if they had to tell one of the living their story before moving on.

A flickering image appeared in the middle of the pool. Branwen's eyes widened in shock as the image became a young woman. The girl's face was stark white, her lips blue, water dripped from her body. Her eyes locked with Branwen. The princess felt cold all over as if the icy waters of the pools were swallowing her up. The last thing she knew was she was falling.

Legolas heard a splash through the trees to his right. He turned to investigate. At first he saw nothing but ripples. Then a body floated to the surface. Legolas did not wait to see who it was before pulling off his cloak and rushing to their aid.

He lifted the body onto the shore and looked at the face. His heart froze when he recognized Branwen's still form. She wasn't breathing and had no pulse.

"Wake up," he whispered as he worked feverishly in his attempts to bring her back to life.

The princess's body shook violently as she coughed up water and drew in deep gulps of air. She was cold, tired, and frightened. Tears flowed down her cheeks as the memory of what had happened returned to her.

Legolas gathered her in his arms and rocked her back and forth, his own body shaking as his heart slowly returned to its normal pace. He had been so afraid he'd lost her.

"What happened?" Legolas asked her once she'd stopped crying.

"I—I don't really know," she whispered, trembling, "One moment I was watching the spirits move about when suddenly a girl who appeared to have drowned was standing in the middle of the pond. I have never felt as hopeless and sad as I did when she looked at me. All I could think about was ending the horrible pain. Then I was falling." She shuddered at the memory.

The Elven Prince held her tighter. He had never realized that Branwen could see the spirits. Only a select few Elves could. His brother Rochendil had been one of the few who could. As with Branwen, Rochendil had few friends and had held great power. Similar characteristics marked the three others Legolas knew of. Seeing spirits was often described as a peaceful thing, but every once in a great while the Watcher encountered a violent spirit. Branwen had encountered one like that.

"It was simply a violent spirit," he whispered tenderly, "It can't hurt you now."

"No," she replied, "It wasn't a normal spirit. I've encountered violent spirits before. This girl was different. It was as if she was still attached to the living."

"How can you tell?" he asked, looking at her strangely.

"She was projecting her emotions," Branwen answered softly. "No spirit of the dead can force me to feel an emotion. She forced me to feel those emotions." A shiver ran down her body.

Legolas picked up his discarded cloak and wrapped it around his charge's shoulders.

"Let's get you back to your rooms and get into something dry," he said, helping her to her feet. Legolas kept one arm around her shoulders as they moved back to the settlement. He worried for the young woman. She was alone among the Elves. No one was close enough to be a friend to her and she was forced to deal with an incredible array of powers.

**Three Days Later**

Legolas gave the young woman a gentle hug.

"Do you really have to leave so soon?" Branwen asked, tilting her face up to look at him. She'd barely had time to get to know the Elf again and he was leaving. It wasn't fair.

"I promised your father I'd be back in time for the twins' birthday," Legolas told her.

Branwen looked down at the ground. She had forgotten that her parents had new daughters now. No matter what they had said, it felt as though they'd banished her. She almost never saw them and they rarely contacted her.

Legolas noticed the sadness in the young woman's features. He lifted her chin gently so that he could look her in the eyes.

"Branwen, if you ever need someone to talk to, please know that I am always willing to listen," he said.

The princess gave a small smile at his words.

Legolas pressed a small object into the princess' hand. She looked down at a small leaf carved from green jade. The pendant hung on a soft leather thong.

"My promise to you," he murmured.

The princess lifted the pendant to tie it around her neck. Legolas stayed her hand and took the leather pieces. Branwen lifted her soft hair out of the way to give Legolas a clear view of the knot he was tying.

"Thank you," Branwen said, hugging him tightly once the necklace was in place.

Legolas felt himself react strangely to her touch. He extracted himself from her embrace and gave her a soft smile before mounting his horse. The stallion wheeled about and left the haven of the Elves.

Branwen watched after Legolas until she could no longer see him. Her fingers reached up to brush over the surface of her pendant and a small sad smile touched the corners of her mouth. If only she had the courage to tell him what was truly wrong with her. If only he could know.


	12. Return to Gondor

**Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Branwen, the first child of Queen Arwen and King Aragorn, is as wild as the wind and as beautiful as her Great-Grandmother Galadriel. The task of her training has fallen upon the capable shoulders of Aragorn's closest friend, Legolas Greenleaf.**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Child," Galadriel called to Branwen, "It is time to prepare for a journey."

"A journey?" The young woman turned to face her grandmother.

"Your brother is being inducted into the Royal Guard," the Elf informed her charge, "And it is likely that you will be allowed to remain in Minas Tirith. You turn eighteen in a few days."

A slow smile spread over Branwen's face. She could finally return home! It seemed almost too good to be true. In moments her things had been packed, ready to be summoned the moment her parents welcomed her home for good.

The princess touched the small green leaf at her throat and smiled again. Going home meant that she would see Legolas soon! True to his word he'd come to visit her several times over the past year, but Branwen was still eager to see him again.

Then a thought occurred to her and her smile widened. She would see Darien again! It had been far too long.

**In Minas Tirith**

Legolas looked out from the stable where he was bedding down his stallion to see what the commotion was about. His eyes landed on the Elven party that had arrived in the courtyard. He recognized Galadriel and Celeborn. Then his eyes fell on Branwen. She sat proudly on her battle mare. He felt his jaw tighten jealously as Guard Darien helped Branwen from her horse and embraced her.

Branwen smiled brightly as her friend hugged her.

"Welcome home," he whispered in her ear. Darien drew back and looked at her.

"You are beautiful," he complimented her.

"Thank you," Branwen murmured, blushing and brushing her hair behind her ear.

The small leaf around her neck caught Darien's eye.

"What is this?" he asked, touching it, "It is beautiful."

Legolas grew inexplicably angry as he watched the guard touch the necklace he'd given Branwen. He strode forward to greet Branwen himself.

"It was a gift," Branwen said, "from—Legolas!" She caught sight of the Elf coming towards her and ran to meet him.

He held her close for a moment. Legolas spotted Eldarion coming to meet his sister with as much dignity as he could muster. He smiled and leaned to whisper in Branwen's ear.

Branwen turned to see Eldarion. The prince lifted his sister into the air and spun her around

"It's so good to have you home," he told her as he set her feet on the ground.

"I'm happy to be home," she answered with a grin.

Branwen followed her brother into the palace to greet her parents and four sisters.

Legolas watched her go with mixed emotions. She had grown into such a beautiful young woman. Men were very attracted to her and Legolas found that he was as well. It was the most unsettling thing he'd ever experienced. To be attracted to a human was one thing, but to be attracted to his best friend's daughter was quite another. If Aragorn ever discovered his friend's attraction to his daughter, he'd be furious.

**Two Days Later**

Branwen stood quietly to one side as her brother was made a full guard. She glanced over at Legolas.

The Elf gave her a small smile, acknowledging the desire Branwen still held to become a warrior. One of two students wasn't bad, he decided. Besides, dresses suited the princess better. Apparently Arwen and Aragorn thought so too. Legolas had never trained Branwen's sisters in anything beyond basic survival, they'd been taught all the womanly arts that Arwen had neglected to teach Branwen.

As the ceremony ended the crowd adjourned to prepare for the celebratory ball. Branwen was excited, soon she'd be eighteen and able to rejoin her family. Maybe she'd even be able to join the Guard!

The thoughts put a bounce in her step as she dressed for the ball. The servants eyed the young woman nervously as she smiled brightly at them and for once didn't fight them as they pulled the elaborate dress over her head. Stays were fastened on her blue ball gown and a skin-toned powder was applied to the scar on Branwen's chest to remove the need for a shawl. The servants piled her golden locks on top of her head and pinned them in place with sapphire-encrusted hair pins. Finally she was declared ready.

The princess brushed her fingers lightly across the hidden scar on her chest. It felt so odd to be without a chest covering. She had still insisted on a form of sleeve. Her sleeves were attached to her upper arms and extended to the middle of her forearm before belling out. An inner layer of silk was fastened around her slim wrists.

Being without sleeves bothered Branwen for several reasons, her number one reason being she stored a great deal of magic in her sleeves. Her great-grandmother stored a ridiculous amount of power in her hair. That was why her hair did crazy things whenever she was using her magic. Sleeves, Branwen had decided, were much more practical and simple to replace.

"Lady Branwen," one of the servants said, bowing and startling the princess out of her thoughts.

Branwen turned toward the servant and he opened the doors to allow her passage.

She slowly descended the stairs into the ball room to greet her parents' guests. Many complimented her on her appearance and expressed joy at seeing her again. It was obvious to the princess that their sentiments were slightly false as the sincerity in their words was not mirrored in their eyes. It made her feel slightly uneasy about what the night might hold for her.

Thankfully the stem of people was halted as the dancing began. Of course, Eldarion, the one being honored, started off with his first partner. As protocol demanded, Branwen, as his eldest sibling, was next. She had forgotten all about having to dance right at the beginning and hadn't found a partner yet.

The princess nearly panicked. Then someone gently took her hand and led her into the center of the room. She looked gratefully up at Legolas as he slipped his hand to the small of her back. He gave her a smile in return.

Other couples joined now in order of their standing in the court. Aragorn and Arwen watched the sea of dancers from their thrones while Arwen's four younger daughters played quietly with other young children to one side of the room.

"You look lovely," Legolas murmured in her ear. He was rewarded with a soft smile and a light blush that crept up to the tips of the princess's ears. The music slowed to a halt and a new song began playing through the hall.

An older man claimed Branwen's hand quickly. He was not a Gondorian. That much was obvious as the first dance with him progressed. He spoke with a heavy accent and introduced himself as Kiliç. She didn't know who he was, but she didn't like him. He was harsh and rough. Dancing with him was more of an exercise in being jerked around the room. After four dances, through which she couldn't seem to escape, someone else managed to claim her hand.

"Thank you for rescuing me," Branwen whispered to her rescuer when she realized it was Darien.

"No problem," he murmured back. "I hate that man. I don't trust him."

"Who is he?" she asked, glancing over at the man as he stood watching her.

" Kiliç of the Wainriders, is how he was introduced to me. As far as I know he is here to form a peace treaty with your father," Darien answered.

"An Easterling?" Branwen was incredulous. She knew that the Wainriders were notorious for attacking Gondorians, even the ambassadors Gondor had once sent were dead. Branwen wondered why her father would choose to side with the Easterlings.

She suddenly pulled Darien outside as another couple danced past, hiding them from the ambassador's view for a brief moment. The princess heaved a sigh of relief as she leaned against the wall.

"Sorry, I just couldn't stand the staring anymore," Branwen admitted as she started to wander off into the gardens. Darien followed just behind her as they moved deeper into the gardens.

Aragorn caught Legolas' eye and nodded towards the doors as he saw his daughter leave with Guard Darien. It wasn't that he didn't trust Darien, but he didn't trust his impulsive daughter with a young man.

Legolas shot a look at the ambassador who seemed about to follow as well. Aragorn just nodded again and inclined his head to show that a young woman of Arwen's entourage had already been sent to intercept the ambassador. The Elf nodded and disappeared outside to follow the princess.

The young couple strolled out to the center of the gardens, allowing the music from the palace to die away. Branwen walked to a secluded part of the path, hoping that the ambassador had not followed them. At least, if he had, this was an easy spot to hide from him.

She sat down on a stone bench and settled her skirts about her before motioning for her friend to sit beside her.

"Branwen," Darien began softly, "There's something I should tell you before we are together any longer."

Branwen tilted her face up to see him more clearly.

Darien swallowed hard as he looked at her face lit in the moonlight.

"I feel something more for you than just friendship," he said, averting his eyes quickly. "I don't know what exactly I feel, I'm rather unsure, but I know that friendship is too weak a word for the way I feel around your. At least I think it is."

A brief silence followed his confession. Then Branwen gave a small laugh.

"I feel the same way," she told him.

"Truly?"

"Truly," she said with a smile.

Slowly, hesitantly, Darien slipped one hand to the back of Branwen's head and pulled her towards him. His lips found hers as her arms slipped around him. Silver light highlighted the young couple as they explored a new direction in their relationship for a moment.


	13. Losing It All

Legolas stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the young couple sitting in the moonlight. In the silver light he recognized Branwen's golden hair and Darien's dress uniform. His blood ran cold as he saw their lips pressed together. Then burning anger replaced the chill. He moved quickly forward.

"I'm sorry," Darien apologized as he pulled back. "That was inappropriate."

He looked at Branwen briefly and saw a look that mirrored his own.

"If I had a sister, I'm sure that was what kissing her might have felt like," he said finally.

Branwen smiled, but before she could respond Darien was dragged away and thrown to the ground.

"Get out of here, arrogant pup," Legolas snarled at the startled guard now lying on the ground at his feet.

"Legolas, wait a moment!" Branwen was on her feet, gripping the Elf's arm to keep him back from Darien.

"M-my lord, let me explain," Darien started.

"Does what I saw really need an explanation?" Legolas asked angrily. "You were touching the princess of Gondor in a manner that was neither dignified nor appropriate. I'm sure there are a great many rules and regulations governing such actions which the king will, I have no doubt, have no problem enforcing."

"Legolas! Let us explain!" Branwen pleaded.

"And you have no right to allow him to touch you in such a way. Even if it was with your consent, his actions are unforgivable," Legolas snapped, turning on the princess.

"Remove yourself to the barracks," he ordered Darien. "Stay there until you are given another order."

Darien got to his feet and looked at Branwen before obeying Legolas' orders with all haste.

The Elf fixed his stony gaze on the princess.

"This is the very reason your father sent you away for so long," he told her icily.

"What reason is that?" Branwen snapped. "To cut me off from all those I love?"

"To keep you from making a fool of yourself with young men," he answered.

"Oh, yes. May the Valar forbid that I ever make a fool of myself. Valar forbid I ever feel something for a member of the opposite gender," she retorted sarcastically.

"You know what I speak of. You know that you have a duty to your people."

"Not that speech again!" she growled in exasperation. "I've only heard that one a hundred times."

"And still you refuse to listen," Legolas interrupted. "You will do whatever your father, whatever your people, need you to do."

"You mean, get married to some ugly, old foreigner that looks like he's about to keel over at any moment, have his babies, and pretend all the while I'm happy?" she shot back. "Like that will happen."

"Princesses do what the king needs done. If your father needs you to marry such a man to cement an alliance, then, yes, you will marry such a man. You are the one who keeps the ambassadors going back to their masters with talk of peace," Legolas told her.

"And what of all my training? I didn't hear being trained in weaponry as part of a princess' duty."

"Your father feared that your brother might die while enduring his difficult training, leaving him without an heir. When he realized that Eldarion would be able to rule one day, he no longer needed to train you," Legolas said without thinking.

"So that's it then." Branwen stepped back from the Elf. The angry was gone from her face. Her chest ached horribly. She had never been someone to her father, just a pawn, a back-up plan, just in case Eldarion died in his training.

"So everything you ever told me, about how good you thought I was, all of it was a lie? You just tried to keep me happy so that I wouldn't catch on to father's oh-so-brilliant plan to marry me off to the first bastard out of the East," she asked, her anger returning in full force as quickly as it had disappeared.

"You know that's not true," Legolas argued.

"Do I? What do I know anymore?" she shouted. "For all I know you could be just keeping me around until the marriage contracts are signed. Is that the only reason I was allowed home? To marry an Easterling?"

Legolas knew now his mistake, but he couldn't take back what he had said. Tears had already begun to trace their way down Branwen's cheeks. But even this realization did not stop his next words, anger had a strong hold on him now.

"Did you ever once stop to think that maybe I never wanted to train you? I do a lot of things for your father because he is my friend. You were one of those things."

His words hung in the air between them. The tears had finally reached her jaw and dripped onto her chest. The moisture revealed the four-point-star-shaped scar on the princess' chest. Then Branwen grasped the necklace at her throat and tore it off.

The small green stone clattered to the ground at Legolas' feet.

"I'm done," she whispered. Then she turned and ran back to the palace.

Legolas was left torn between numbness and rage.

**The Next Morning**

Branwen stood before her very angry father.

"I've sent Darien to an outpost near Harad," he told his daughter. "You are never allowed to speak to him again."

"Ada, please he's—"

Aragorn cut her off.

"I don't want to hear another word from you. I don't even know what to do with you," he said. "You are more disruptive than any of your sisters and certainly much harder to deal with than your brother. I honestly don't think you learned anything from your time in Lorien. Your mother and I made a grave mistake when we allowed you to train in weapons."

Branwen's heart sank in her chest as if it were a chunk of marble in water. Her chest ached horribly. The pain inside was nearly unbearable. She had lost her only friend and her family in one blow. Why couldn't any of them see she needed her friend? Why wouldn't anyone let her explain?

"Lady Galadriel returned to Lorien this morning," Aragorn continued. "You are to stay behind and learn what you should have learned years ago."

The princess raised her head, fighting back the tears.

"Try and make me," she said emotionlessly. Whirling around, she fled back to her rooms.

"Perhaps we were a bit hard on her?" Legolas asked as he stepped out of the shadows.

"No, she must learn her place," Aragorn said, settling back in his throne for a moment.

Legolas nodded. He knew that he should have waited to speak with Aragorn after his own anger had abated, but he hadn't listened to his own reasoning. So many cruel words had passed from his lips in a jealous rage. Still, that was no excuse for his behavior.

The Elf turned and left his friend. He had to apologize to Branwen. He doubted that she would accept it, but he still had to try. The small green leaf he'd carved lay hidden in his hand, ready to be returned to its mistress if she would accept it.

As the Elf neared the princess' rooms, he was greeted by a frantic servant.

"Lady Branwen is gone!" the servant told Legolas as he wrung his hand anxiously. "She left moments ago."

"What!"

"She just vanished," the servant explained. "Her room is a mess."

Legolas brushed past the servant and entered the princess' rooms. Sure enough the room was in shambles. Clothing had been scattered as if the princess had been looking for something. Judging by the clothes on the floor it had been her more practical robes and tunics. The silken dresses her parents wanted her to wear were scattered all around.

"I found this on her bed, my lord," the servant managed, holding out a piece of paper. "I didn't dare look at it. The princess has quite a temper."

With a wave, the servant was dismissed. Legolas slowly unfolded the parchment. It was the drawing he'd seen years ago when he'd taken Branwen into the forest. This time, the lettering on the wall was very red.


	14. The Consequences of Hastily Spoken Words

Legolas made it to the forests of Lorien after two days of hard riding. He was greeted by a grim Galadriel.

"She's missing."

Legolas felt his heart turned to lead in his chest.

"How long?"

"She left her rooms for the first time this morning and hasn't been seen since," Galadriel told him. "I can't feel her at all."

It was then that Legolas knew exactly where the princess had gone. He felt cold at the thought.

"I know where she is," he said softly. "I will find her. Please wait for me here." He disappeared into the trees. Once out of Galadriel's sight, he burst into an all out run. He knew suddenly that the girl Branwen had seen in a vision nearly a year and a half before was not a spirit, but a vision of the future. The drowned girl was her.

Fear of being too late gave him the extra speed he needed. He made it to the water's edge and stopped. The surface of the water was still and calm. He nearly gave a sigh of relief and turned away when a small white handkerchief on the surface caught his eye. Just below the surface was a ghostly white hand reaching up from the depths.

Legolas shed his boots, riding cloak, and affects before plunging into the icy waters. In the crystalline waters he could make out Branwen's white skin. Her golden hair drifted in the waters around her head. In the pale light Branwen's star-shaped scar glowed eerily.

The Elf attempted to lift the girl from the bottom, but the ball gown she still wore was so heavy that he risked drowning himself. He tore at the laces and pulled the princess out of the over gown. Once her gown was gone he discovered that the heaviest part of her outfit seemed to be her half sleeves. She had bespelled the sleeves to hold her under. With a tug the sleeves were gone and the princess was easy to lift out of the water.

Clambering onto the shore, Legolas fought desperately to bring the princess back from the dead. She coughed up water suddenly and began to breath, but did not awake. The Elf wrapped the barely living girl in his riding cloak. The light under dress she wore was so wet that even the gentle breeze must have felt like a winter wind on her body.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered over and over again as he tried to warm her body.

He carried her back to the place he'd left Galadriel. The Elven Queen looked absolutely bewildered at the disheveled state of the pair.

"She slipped and fell in," he lied to the worried Elven queen. Most Elves looked down on those who attempted to take their own lives and Legolas wanted to spare Branwen that if he could.

If Galadriel saw through his lie, she wisely said nothing and allowed Legolas up to Branwen's rooms.

"Let me call her servant," he requested. Branwen had secrets that he was sure she would never want her great-grandmother to know and he wanted to respect that. Galadriel quietly left Legolas alone with her granddaughter.

Legolas quickly slid tubes of cloth designed to keep Branwen's arms protected even while her hand were bare on her before calling in one of the servants to change the princess into warm, dry clothing. He didn't want the servant seeing the long cuts on the princess' arms. He couldn't believe no one had noticed the marks before. There were scars from many years ago beneath the newest ones. It pained him that she hadn't felt safe enough to tell him exactly how much she was hurting. He'd known something was wrong, but he hadn't even tried to reach out to her.

As the servant entered the room Legolas made sure the maid would not tell Branwen that he had been the one to bring her in. In fact he didn't want her to know he'd come to Lorien at all. He was too ashamed of the things he'd said to face her right now. Especially now that he'd seen the pain he'd caused.

When he left the room he went directly to Galadriel and Celeborn. He explained that Branwen had been in her quiet place when she had slipped and fallen into the waters. Her dress had been so heavy that she couldn't swim to safety and had nearly drowned. He requested that no one ever tell Branwen that he'd come to Lorien.

If anyone found his actions bizarre, they didn't comment upon them. For that Legolas was exceedingly grateful. He accepted Celeborn's offer of a place to spend a few nights.

**Days Later**

Branwen woke groggily from her unconscious state. Her body shook as chills ran over her. Tender hands wrapped the covers tighter around her shoulders.

"Can I get you anything, my lady?" the maid asked.

Branwen shook her head, her throat hurt too much to speak. The servant got up and left the room, leaving the princess alone with her thoughts. If she'd had the strength, Branwen would have tossed herself out of the flet to the ground over one hundred feet below. Her entire body ached and she felt sick to her stomach. On top of that her only memory of her visit to Gondor took the form of a savage hurt in her chest.

"Branwen!" Galadriel swept into the room and was beside her grandchild. "I was so worried about you." She took the girl's hand.

"What happened?" the princess murmured. She was certain that no one could have found her in the place she had chosen for her death. Only a few had ever seen her there.

"One of the guards found you," the older Elf replied. "He saw you lose your footing and fall into the water."

Branwen knew her grandmother was lying. That was obvious from the explanation she had just given her granddaughter. Someone had known she was trying to kill herself and had deliberately saved her and lied to Galadriel, but had made certain that Branwen was not told who had saved her.

"Be sure to thank him for helping me," Branwen whispered, playing along with the lie. If her grandmother did not know what had almost happened, then Branwen would not be the one to tell her.

"Of course, dear." She stood up.

"I will be back shortly," Galadriel told her. "I am going to inform your grandfather that you are awake."

Branwen nodded and sank back onto the pillows. She was exhausted.

The Elven Queen swept from the room and down the hall. She nearly collided with Legolas as he exited his rooms.

"Legolas, excellent news! Branwen is awake!" Galadriel watched the prince's face closely. Relief flickered briefly across his countenance.

"That is good news. I trust she will be fine?" Legolas asked, trying to mask his emotions.

"I expect she will be. Why don't you go see her?" Galadriel suggested.

"I doubt very much that seeing her would be a good thing," he murmured.

"I'm afraid I must take my leave of Lorien," he continued. "I intend to return to Mirkwood for a time."

Galadriel fixed the younger Elf in her questioning gaze. Whatever had happened in Gondor between Legolas and Branwen must have been terrible for neither to want to see the other.

"Legolas, what happened?" she asked quietly, touching his arm. He just shook his head and disappeared down the hall.

Galadriel watched him go for a moment before going to find her husband and notify him of Branwen's awakening.


	15. Drawn to Her Darkness

Night had fallen in Lorien, cloaking the land in darkness. Few creatures stirred beneath the leafy boughs. At the edge of one flet stood a silent figure, gazing up through a hole in the canopy to the stars above. A gentle breeze drifted around the being, shifting restlessly through golden hair. Light from above fell on the young woman's face. She closed her eyes as the light played across them and drew in a gentle breath. Unbeknownst to her, someone watched her from the shadows beneath the trees.

Legolas stayed carefully out of the moonlight. He dared not show himself. To do so would ruin whatever moment of peace the young woman was seeking as well as earn her scorn. It had been nearly three months since his last visit to Lorien, three months since Branwen had nearly died. In Gondor he had felt so ashamed of himself. He could not bear to be on the archery fields for fear of the memories. The garden was a place he avoided. The ballroom where he had shared a dance with her was off limits in his mind. He found himself drawn to Lorien, if only to see her.

Aragorn had allowed Branwen to stay in Lorien when Galadriel had gone back to Gondor to speak with him. About what the Elven Prince did not know. Whatever had been said was kept very quiet, even Arwen did not know.

Branwen allowed herself a few brief moments to remember what her life had been, something she hadn't done for several months. She had thought once that she would be back in Minas Tirith by now, enjoying her friends and family. Now she knew that would never be her life. How could she ever go back? Nothing could ever be the same. What hurt the most was losing Legolas, her friend and mentor. She'd trusted him so much. His words still hurt, even after so many months and tears.

The young woman drew in a shuddering breath as she fought back the tears. No, tears could not be spent any longer. She had resolved to never cry over that time again. To do so would mean that Branwen cared. She kept telling herself that she never loved them anyway, but her heart did not believe what her mind was trying to tell it.

The moonlight disappeared as clouds rolled in to obscure the night sky. Branwen turned away from the flet's edge and slipped quietly inside.

Legolas waited a moment longer before moving back to the flet Celeborn had offered him for anytime he needed it. It bothered him that he could not bring himself to go to Branwen and apologize for his harsh words. But it was still too soon. Perhaps after the pain had dulled he would be allowed nearer to her.

**The Next Day**

Branwen descended the stairs to where her grandparents were waiting to break their fast.

"Good morning, my child," Galadriel greeted, pulling the princess into a chair as she did every morning. Celeborn had already seated himself and gave his granddaughter a smile.

"Good morning, _Daernana, Daerada_," she whispered, keeping her eyes lowered.

The two older Elves looked at each other as they did every morning. This behavior of Branwen's had appeared shortly after her return to Lorien and it worried both.

Someone else entered the room.

"Forgive me for being late," Legolas said as he stepped into the room. "I arrived late last night."

The Elves all noticed the stiffening of Branwen's form at the sound of the prince's voice. She did not look up or show any other signs of noticing him.

"Please join us, my friend," Celeborn greeted, gesturing to a chair beside him.

Branwen did not get up and leave as she wanted to do, her manners urged her to be better than that. So she stayed, quiet and withdrawn as food was brought. She felt eyes on her throughout, but refused to look up.

"Branwen," Galadriel tried suddenly as the conversation dwindled, "You've been a little withdrawn lately. Perhaps you could spar with Legolas. You always seem happier after a match with someone."

"I am sorry, _Daernana_," the princess responded mechanically, "I have work in the village today. Midwife Rita has asked me to help her with her work today." Her words were softly, but deliberately spoken so that all could hear.

"Of course, I understand," Galadriel wheedled, "but perhaps you could help her some other time?"

"No!" Branwen startled everyone with her vehemence. Her blue eyes were alight with anger. Without another word she was on her feet and gone from the room.

"Please, Lady Galadriel," Legolas murmured. "Do not push her on my behalf."

"But how can she treat you like this? You were her mentor and friend! She owes you more than rudeness." Galadriel wasn't stupid, she knew something had happened, but she thought it was all on her granddaughter's end. Countless times before, Branwen had become withdrawn. Time with Legolas, however, had always produced good results. Never before had the young human reacted so violently to a suggestion.

"She owes me nothing. I betrayed her trust," Legolas admitted quietly. "I deserve nothing from her. Excuse me."

He rose from the table, bowed to his host and hostess, and made his way to his flet.

"Perhaps there is more to this problem than even you in your vast knowledge can comprehend," Celeborn observed, speaking up for the first time.

"I can't read them at all!" Galadriel exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. "I had no problems reading either before. Either I'm losing my touch or they've gotten someone to teach them how to shield themselves from me."

Celeborn chuckled dryly. "I do believe Branwen found out for herself how to do it and taught Legolas on a previous visit. It seems that your habit of rummaging through their minds was not a popular experience."

Galadriel gave her husband a withering look. He merely shrugged and looked away.


	16. Finding a Friend

Legolas studied the dull stone walls of the city he was approaching. It was this city to which Guard Darien had been transferred. It had been three years since the young man had been moved from the Minas Tirith garrison to this hot, dry, miserable hole at the far southern border of the Gondorian kingdom.

The guards at the gates of the city garrison waved the Elf inside after examining his credentials. A stable hand took his mount's reins and directed Legolas to the garrison commander's office.

The commander looked up as an Elf entered his office in dusty riding leathers. This was certainly a strange day; he'd not seen an Elf since he was transferred to the garrison twenty years before.

"What can I do to help you?" he asked setting aside his paperwork to stand and greet the Elf.

"I am looking for Guard Darien," Legolas answered succinctly.

"He is on leave in the city," the commander told him. "You might be able to find him near the smithy."

Legolas nodded his understanding and left the office. The commander just shook his head and settled back into his chair. Today was definitely a strange day.

People fell out of the way as they watched the Elf striding down the street. The smithy was simple to find. Standing in the overhang of the roof, out of the sun's hot rays, was a young couple locked in a passionate embrace.

"Pardon me," Legolas began. The young man turned to face the Elf and his face paled.

"L-lord Legolas!" Darien took an involuntary step backwards, pushing the young woman back with him.

"Who is this?" Legolas demanded, gesturing to the young woman.

"My wife." Darien drew the young woman against his body in a protective gesture. His jaw was set in determination.

"What of Branwen?" A sudden anger overwhelmed the Elf. He had come to the outpost, willing to speak to and forgive the guard. It was close to Branwen's moment of choosing. But this betrayal of Branwen could not be forgiven.

Darien's grip on his wife tightened.

"Branwen and I were never anything more than close friends. If you had paused for a single moment to hear her out, you would understand," he told Legolas boldly. His eyes flashed angrily.

Legolas stood silent, shocked by the human's sudden tenacity. The words finally sunk in and realization dawned on the Elf.

"Come to Minas Tirith in the next week," he said finally. "Branwen will need a friend in the city." He nodded to the young woman holding on to Darien before striding back to the commander's office.

**The Following Week**

Branwen swayed with the motion of her horse, her eyes fixed, unseeing, on the city looming up before her. As Galadriel had wished, she was dressed as a princess: a heavy riding habit, a beautifully embroidered cloak, her hair pulled back in an elegant braid. She was returning "home." Still, the dead feeling remained in her heart. Nothing had erased it over the past three years. The pain had dulled to numbness so that she no longer longed for death. Instead she merely drifted through her days, eyes open and heart shut.

The gates of the palace opened to the travelers. Stable hands ran to take charge of the animals as the Elves dismounted gracefully.

Branwen stood silently beside Galadriel and Celeborn as they greeted the King and Queen of Gondor. Her eyes remained motionless, staring straight ahead of her at the white walls of the palace. There was no reason for her to greet her family for her family was not there. As far as Branwen was concerned, her family consisted of Galadriel and Celeborn.

Legolas watched the exchange between the two groups from a short distance away. Branwen's parents and siblings were all present to greet the returning princess, yet not one moved to embrace her. The younger girls whispered behind their hands to one another, they knew of their oldest sister's disgrace and banishment to Lorien. Eldarion stood awkwardly behind his father, watching his sister for any sign of recognition. Branwen, for her part, did not even glance at her family. Her eyes were distant and unseeing and she moved no more than absolutely necessary.

"When things have calmed down a little, see if you can speak to Branwen alone," Legolas murmured to Darien. "She needs to know that she still has one friend."

Darien was quiet as he stared at the princess. Legolas could see the shock in his eyes. The princess had become a totally different person from the one they both had known.

Arwen attempted to embrace her daughter, but received no response. For all the response she received, she might as well have hugged a pillar. The princess was as unmoving as a piece of marble. No one else even made the attempt before entering the palace. Branwen moved finally, to escort her mare into the stables. She would personally see to the mare's well-being.

Darien made his move before Legolas could urge him on. He could not bear to see his friend in such a frozen state.

"Branwen?"

The voice was familiar, yet strange. Branwen reacted to the sound of her name for the first time in over a year. Standing at the entrance of the stall was a young man in a guard uniform.

"Darien?" she breathed, hardly daring to hope that this might be her friend. For an instant, feeling returned to her. Excitement leaped in her chest.

"Yes." He caught Branwen as she flew into his arms. The princess clung to her friend as though she was drowning. Tears she had thought lost forever spilled down her cheeks.

"Hush," Darien whispered, stroking her hair.

"If the king should see you," she gasped suddenly, starting to pull back. Her father was of no concern to her, but Darien could be harmed if the king was in a foul mood.

"Do not worry," he told her. "Lord Legolas has arranged for the ban your father place on us to be nullified."

Branwen pulled back suddenly. No one had dared speak that name around her for some time. Darien realized his mistake at that instant. He began to speak, but another voice called out.

"Darien? Are you in here?" a woman called, interrupting at the right moment.

"In here, Rochelle," he called back. Darien turned back to the princess. "There is someone I want you to meet. Rochelle is my wife."

The young woman curtsied shyly to the princess. Branwen looked at the woman for a moment as she did with anyone new she met. She was obviously no stranger to hard work as her body was strong and her hands rough and toughened by manual labor. But she was not ugly, far from it. In fact, Branwen was willing to bet that she was the village beauty. Rochelle wore her light brown hair in a long, loose braid past her waist. Her eyes were a dusty blue that sparkled with good humor.

"Your wife?" Branwen kissed Darien on the cheek and took Rochelle's hand. She was glad her friend had found a beautiful young woman who could love him as he deserved to be loved. A look of relief crossed Darien's face as the two women embraced. Branwen caught the look.

"You feared I might fly into a rage over you marriage?" she guessed, raising one eyebrow. This was the first time something had amused her in a long time.

"I wasn't sure," he admitted.

"Well, I find it wonderful," she told him.

"Your highness, it is wonderful to finally meet you. Darien has told me so much about you," Rochelle said, speaking to Branwen for the first time.

"He has?" Branwen felt strange.

"Of course, I did," Darien answered, smiling. "You're my best friend."

_Best friend._ His words made Branwen remember just what it was like to have someone to care for her. She hugged him tightly.

**(A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I have multiple versions of this chapter most of which actually take place in the three year span. None of them were really relevant, just filler so I decided to skip right on ahead. I honestly hate this chapter. It seems so disjointed to me, but it's getting me where I want to go so I guess it will work. Let me know what you think.)**


	17. Finding Forgiveness

The palace was relatively quiet. Most of the preparations for the evening's festivities had been completed and only a few things were left to be finished.

Legolas found himself advancing up the stairs to the chambers Branwen would be dwelling in for the duration of her stay. His hands clenched and unclenched nervously as he thought about what he was about to do. Earlier he had spoken to Darien.

"_Guard Darien."_

"_Lord Legolas," the young man responded, bowing to the Elven lord. _

"_Would you be willing to speak to me for a little while?" Legolas asked. _

"_Certainly, my lord." The guard fell into step beside the Elf. "You wish to speak of Branwen?"_

_Legolas smiled slightly, Darien was no fool. _

"_Yes and no. I wish to beg your forgiveness."_

_Darien looked up at his companion in surprise. "My lord?"_

"_You were right to chastise me when I found you at the outpost: I should have heard you both out before making my judgments. I ask your forgiveness," Legolas told him. He stopped walking and watched the young man's face. _

"_What of Branwen?" Darien asked finally._

"_I intend to speak with her tonight, before the ball." Legolas took a deep breath before continuing, "I spoke to her more harshly than I ever should have. You have found happiness in the life you have lived since my poor judgment separated the two of you. She has not. If I am not worthy of your forgiveness, then I shall never be worthy of hers."_

"_I forgave you long ago," he answered finally. "You love Branwen and wish to protect her, I realize that now. You have my forgiveness." Darien bowed again and left Legolas standing alone. _

It was time for Legolas to face the young woman he had hurt so long ago. Branwen might not even agree to see him. That was a very real possibility. So many possible outcomes ran through Legolas' mind as he turned down the corridor leading to her rooms. The worst of all outcomes would be for her to see him and tell him how absolutely loathsome she found him. Legolas dared not even dream of any outcome beyond a polite meeting in which she agreed to at least acknowledge him. He had caused her so much pain. It had been he who had caused her to attempt to take her life. The memory of her lifeless form in that pool still haunted him.

At the door to Branwen's sitting room Legolas hesitated. He was afraid. He hadn't felt this nervous, this afraid, since the end of the War. Now, one young woman had caused his heart to pound and his hands to tremble. Before he could change his mind, Legolas knocked on the door.

A maid opened the door and peered up at the Elf in surprise.

"Is Princess Branwen present?" he asked.

"Of course," the woman answered.

"Would you tell her that her servant Legolas begs an audience?" At this the woman's eyes widened. For the famed Lord Legolas to humble himself like this before anyone it must indeed be important that he speak to the princess. The woman curtsied to the Elven Prince and hurried to take the request to the princess.

Legolas wet his lips nervously with the tip of his tongue as he awaited the maid's return. He forced his hands to unclench and hang loosely at his sides. It would do no good for him to work himself into a nervous wreck.

Branwen looked up as her flustered ladies maid entered the room.

"What is it, Chelsea?" she asked, noting the maid's flushed face and rapid breathing. Had this occurred a few years previously she might have been concerned. Now, she was merely annoyed by the maid's reaction to some, likely insignificant, event.

"Your highness, you have a visitor," the maid told her mistress excitedly. "He asked me to give you a message."

Branwen put aside her book and looked at the woman with a raised eyebrow.

"And what is this message?" she wanted to know.

"Your servant Legolas begs an audience of you," she recited, looking up at the ceiling in attempt to remember the exact wording. She was relatively new to her post, but she knew that when such a distinguished person as Lord Legolas gave her a message to pass on, it was very important the wording was exact.

A chill ran through the princess' body at the mention of the Elf's name. She almost told Chelsea to dismiss him, thinking of her own hurt. Then she recalled Darien's words to her that afternoon in the stables. _"Lord Legolas has arranged for the ban your father place on us to be nullified."_ Legolas had made an effort to reverse the damage at least. At the very least, she could see him.

"What shall I tell him, my lady?" Chelsea asked after several long minutes of silence.

It had been almost ten minutes since the maid had left to speak with Branwen. Legolas had nearly left twice as he thought about what Branwen might say if she did agree to see him. He was terrified, a state totally foreign to him except when it involved Branwen. She had the ability to make him feel things he'd never felt before. That, in and of itself, scared him.

The maid re-entered, startling the Elf. If she noticed how jumpy the prince was, she gave no sign.

"Her highness will see you now," she told him with a curtsey. "Right this way." The woman opened the door of another chamber, shutting it behind Legolas.

Legolas looked around the room. It was empty. Then he noticed the doors onto the balcony were open. He took a deep breath before walking over. Branwen was standing with her back to him, her hands resting on the stone railing.

"My lady," he said, bowing to her as she turned to see him.

Branwen felt a tremor run through her body when she turned to see the Elven Prince standing a few steps behind her. As he straightened, Legolas caught her in his grey-eyed gaze. In an instant Branwen's entire body had frozen. Her heart was pounding. It had been years since she had last allowed him this close to her.

"My maid said you wished to speak with me?" she asked, attempting to appear bored.

"I came to beg your forgiveness," he told her. "I acted without thinking and said things that were untrue simply to be hurtful. I took away your only friend and alienated you from your family. For this, I beg your forgiveness." Legolas fell silent and watched the young woman's face.

Branwen was not sure how to react. So she put off her own answer.

"Have you spoken with Darien?"

"I have."

Legolas stood quietly as Branwen thought. Her silence was better than a sharp retort he supposed, but the silence was tearing his resolve to shreds. Only his desire for her forgiveness kept him standing silently in her presence.

"I came also to warn you," he said finally, breaking the silence and interrupting the princess' thoughts.

"Warn me?" she asked, bewildered.

"When you make your decision tonight your path will be chosen for you. Galadriel should have told you this much already, and explained what becoming an Elf would mean for you. Has she said anything about what would occur should you choose to remain human?" Legolas paused long enough to see Branwen shake her head. "You were likely informed that your brother is marrying a princess of the Easterlings to cement an alliance between the kingdoms. Thankfully they have fallen madly in love. However, this princess has a brother who is very interested in making you his wife. Should you become human, you will be sent into the East to wed this prince. He will be present at tonight's festivities."

Legolas stopped speaking.

Branwen had suspected that a suitable match had already been chosen for her should she remain human, but her heart sank as Legolas' words confirmed it. Her only option was to choose the life of an Elf. But as an Elf, Branwen's life was still not her own. She was to take her grandmother's place as the Lady of Lorien and as one of the Elven rulers. Her grandfather was making arrangements with Thranduil to share the southern woods of the Greenwood between them after Galadriel sailed into the West.

"Why are you telling me this?" Branwen wanted to know. "My father would be furious if he knew."

This was very true. Aragorn cared for his daughter, but was willing to sacrifice her if it meant securing the safety of his people. Legolas knew this.

"This is the most powerful choice you will ever make. You deserve to know what you face," Legolas told her.

Branwen walked past him into her room. Her heart was uncertain as to what her choice would be that night, but on one point was it certain: she missed Legolas. She missed everything about him, even when she'd been avoiding him. The princess turned to face the Elven Prince.

Time stood still for a long moment as they simply looked at each other. Legolas felt the change in her mood and reached out to draw her into his arms. She allowed him to hold her as tears began to fall.

Legolas closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head as she wept. This had not been in his list of possible outcomes, but, because Branwen was allowing him to hold her, he assumed this was a good outcome.

Tentatively, the prince moved his hand up to stroke the young woman's hair. She allowed the motion.

A knock on the door startled them apart. Branwen swiped furiously at the tears on her cheeks.

"What is it?" she called out a second later.

"Mistress, you need to begin dressing for tonight," Chelsea called through the door.

"I understand," Branwen replied. She turned to face Legolas once more. A shiver ran down her spine as she gazed into his grey eyes. They were so filled with emotion as to be unreadable.

"I came to ask for your forgiveness," Legolas repeated softly, watching her face intently. She had become so skilled at hiding her emotions that he could not even guess at what she was thinking.

"And I do forgive you," she breathed finally. Legolas let out the breath he was not aware he'd been holding. With a bow, he started out of the room. Then he halted and reached up to take the cord from around his neck.

Branwen watched as the Elf paused and pulled something out of his tunic, slipping the cord over his head. She bit her lower lip as he turned back to her.

"This is yours if you still want it," Legolas told her, holding out his hand. Sitting in his palm was the green leaf pendant he'd given her years before. Slowly she reached out to take the necklace from his hand. The stone was warm from its time pressed against the Elf's chest.

"You kept it all these years?" she asked in disbelief. Their eyes met again. A strange feeling formed in the pit of Branwen's stomach as she gazed into his eyes.

"I had hoped that you would want it back one day," he answered with a small smile. Legolas noted the princess' speechlessness. He made a low bow to her and left her chambers.

With trembling hands, the princess slipped the soft leather thong around her neck. The stone rested on her chest. Her fingers brushed over its surface, her eyes closed. Yes, she had missed Legolas.


	18. The End of a Human Life

**A/N: This is this story's finale. I have an entire set of events I want to happen post PoG, but pre ****Death of a King****. I will end up re-writing DoaK in order to facilitate some of the changes I have made throughout the course of this story. So keep an eye out for a second series to be stuck in between those two. And maybe a third post DoaK. We'll see what I have time for before I begin my enlistment. Enjoy the chapter and please review!**

**Song I listened to the most writing this chapter: "If This Isn't Love" by Jennifer Hudson**

Couples spun around the floor while others stood laughing and talking on the sidelines. A few, like Legolas and Gimli, simply watched the proceedings. The old dwarf looked up at his fair friend. The elf's mind was far away as his gaze followed Princess Branwen around the floor. The young woman's partner was none other than the handsome Easterling prince, though no one was permitted to tell her exactly who he was.

"Branwen would make the Easterling prince a fine young wife," Gimli commented, watching closely Legolas' reaction. He noted with interest the tightening of the Elf's jaw, his narrowed eyes, and his clenched fists. Ah, so he had struck a nerve! Now to pry a little deeper.

"Just look how lovely they are _together_," Gimli placed emphasis on the last word, trying to goad a bigger reaction out of the Elven Prince.

"Are you trying to irritate me?" Legolas snapped suddenly, turning on the dwarf.

"I am simply trying to get you to admit how you feel," Gimli answered. "Come outside with me, lad." He led Legolas out of the crowds of people and onto the terrace.

"Now, I know you feel something for the young woman. Why will you not just admit it?" the dwarf demanded.

Legolas averted his eyes.

"Look at me and give me a straight answer!" the dwarf growled.

"I lost her once, Gimli. I will never lose her again. To admit what I feel for her would destroy what little trust I've gained back," Legolas answered slowly.

"And what if she chooses to remain human tonight? She will lose all of her powers and will be taken back into the East. You will never see her again," Gimli wanted to know.

"If she chooses that life, then she does not wish me in her life. Where she goes on that path, I cannot follow," the elf said.

"And should she choose to become an Elf? What then?"

"I will try only for her trust and friendship. I would rather have her as my friend than lose her because she does not wish me to see her as a mate," Legolas replied. His voice was soft, betraying the sadness. Gimli stood quietly for a moment. He hadn't actually expected the Elf to open up to him that much.

Legolas slipped back into the ballroom. He tried desperately to keep his eyes off of Branwen and for the most part he succeeded.

Branwen darted behind a group of servants, trying to hide from the young man she'd been dancing with all night. She was pretty sure that he was the Easterling prince she would be expected to marry if she remained mortal. That was not an appealing thought. He was pleasant enough, she guessed. She turned to slip further away through the crowd and collided with a solid form.

Looking up, Branwen felt her heart flutter. Legolas gave her an amused smile and raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"Hiding from your partner?" he asked, as he noticed the young man looking about for the princess.

"Um . . ." Branwen found herself at a loss for words as she ducked her head as the Easterling glanced their direction.

Legolas smiled at her conspiratorially and blocked her from view as he led her out of the ballroom and onto the terrace where he'd talked earlier with Gimli.

Branwen relaxed marginally as she followed her former mentor and friend down the steps and out of sight of the ballroom doors. It felt wonderful to be out in the open air, away from stuffy courtiers and servants. Her melancholy mood had been lifted ever since Legolas' visit to her chambers several hours earlier. She had missed him so.

"May I ask why you were hiding from your partner?" Legolas asked as he strolled into the garden beside her, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He was, Branwen noticed, keeping a safe distance between them, almost as if he was afraid to get too close.

"He was . . ." Branwen paused as she searched for the correct word. "Slimy."

"Slimy?" Legolas was struggling to contain his amusement at this. The twitching of the corners of his mouth utterly gave him away.

"Yes, slimy," Branwen told him. "He was polite, but he seemed to ooze. None of it seemed to come naturally. It was like goo had been dumped over his head to make him that friendly."

Legolas' shoulders shook with silent laughter. Branwen playfully slapped his shoulder. The familiar gesture caused the mood to alter suddenly. The Elf gave the princess a look that was questioning. There was uncertainty in his gaze.

Branwen stopped walking abruptly in the middle of the path. Legolas halted as well and looked back at her. Her face was hidden in the shadows the flickering torches cast throughout the maze-like garden. Her hands were moving nervously at her sides.

"I'm sorry," she blurted suddenly.

"For what?" Legolas was surprised to hear an apology from the young woman.

"For being impossible to deal with, for going insane over every little thing, for—for everything," she answered.

Legolas walked slowly over to stand in front of the young princess. He could see her face clearly as she tilted her head back to look up at him.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he told her, grasping her thin shoulders gently. "You are who you are and I would not change you for anything." With that he drew her tightly against him. Her arms slid around his waist.

"I missed you so much, Legolas," she whispered as she looked up, resting her chin awkwardly on the Elf's hard chest.

Legolas looked down her and his heart skipped a beat. It took all of his willpower not bow his head slightly and capture her lips with his. Branwen could never know his feelings for her, especially not when she had such an important choice to make. She would need a clear head when she made her decision.

"And I missed you," he answered finally, attempting to satisfy himself with a mere kiss to her forehead. Legolas released her from the embrace. The two started walking again.

"There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about," Branwen revealed as they walked. "I missed the days we would just sit and talk about nothing. Those were the moments I looked forward to the most. When I realized I could never tell you what was happening to me, I fell apart."

Legolas was forced to halt again as Branwen seized his arm.

"Do you remember the pool I fell in when I was young?" she asked slowly, her eyes downcast.

"I do."

"Several days after our fight, I, um" she was having a great deal of difficulty telling him exactly what she done. But Legolas already knew.

"You tried to kill yourself," Legolas finished for her. Her head shot up in surprise.

"How—?" Legolas placed his fingertips gently over her mouth to silence her.

"I came looking for you. I left for Lorien the moment I realized that you had fled Gondor," Legolas paused for a moment. The memory of her lifeless body floating beneath the water made him ill. He reached out and gently touched the princess' cheek as if to reassure himself that she was alive.

"When Galadriel told me that you had gone missing, I was terrified. I prayed I was wrong, that you had just gone for a walk to clear your head. I hoped that the vision you'd had when I found you the first time was just a spirit, not a prediction of the future. I thought you were dead when I pulled you from the water. I have never been as frightened as I was in that moment." Legolas stopped speaking and gently brushed away a tear that had slipped from Branwen's eye. "My intention in following you to Lorien was to apologize for what I'd said and done. But when I saw the pain I'd caused you, I decided you were better off without me in your life. Every visit to Lorien was only to reassure myself that you were still alive. Regardless of the things I've said and done, I care so much about you."

Branwen stood in shock, her eyes glistening with tears as she stared up at Legolas. So many years had been wasted as she'd let him drift in and out of her life, years she couldn't get back. Her life would be so different now, if only she had ignored her foolish pride and hurt.

Suddenly every reason for keeping his feelings hidden seemed utterly pathetic. Legolas slipped a trembling hand behind Branwen's head, entangling his fingers gently in her silken strands. His declaration would be the most difficult thing he'd ever told her.

"Branwen?" he murmured, gazing into her eyes.

Branwen felt her heartbeat accelerating as she saw a strange emotion in his eyes, an emotion she had never seen before.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Branwen, I—."

"Lady Branwen! It is nearly midnight!" a servant cried out as he rounded a corner in the hedge and spotted the princess. "Your father would like you to join him beside the thrones."

Legolas dropped the hand that had been gently cradling the princess' head as the moment was shattered by the servant's unceremonious arrival. The servant vanished, leaving them alone again, but the damage had been done. Legolas' reasoning overcame his emotion and he buried his feelings quickly beneath layers of reasons and excuses.

Branwen felt her heart sink as the servant interrupted the moment. Legolas had been about to tell her something important, that much she knew. Silently, she cursed the servant for delivering his message.

"Legolas, what were you going to say?" she asked, hoping against fate itself that he might have been about to confess his feelings for her, feelings she hoped he had.

The Elf just shook his head.

"It was nothing," he lied. He took her hand and led her gently back to the palace.

"Legolas," she said, spinning suddenly to place herself in front of him just as they reached the steps leading into the ballroom. "What do I do? How do I choose?" Branwen looked up at him pleadingly.

"I cannot choose for you," he answered slowly. "This must be your decision and yours alone. You always have been and always will be your own person, no matter what everyone else tells you."

Impulsively, Branwen hugged him again. Legolas gave a soft smile as he gently kissed the top of her head.

"Make your own path," he told her, pushing her gently up the steps.

Branwen looked down at him from the top of the stairs, her entire body quivering. She took a deep shuddering breath and forced herself to turn away and enter the palace. Her path was to be decided tonight in but a few short moments. The crowd parted to allow the princess through.

Aragorn drew his daughter up onto the dais to make her decision.

"Have you made your decision, my daughter?" he asked so that all in attendance could hear.

"I have," the young princess answered firmly. She took a step away from her parents and faced the crowd of people gathered. Her eyes slid over the Easterling Prince at the forefront of the crowd, past her siblings and Darien before coming to rest on the Elf at the very back of the room, standing just inside the open doors of the ballroom. For one brief instant, her heart sang. Then she felt power surging through her as her choice took effect.

None present had ever seen a Deciding before as seldom did any this spectacular ever take place. Only those of great magical talent had dramatic Decidings. Those of lesser power, like Arwen, simply made their choices and were done with it. Branwen was even more powerful than Galadriel, her Decision was incredible.

Legolas felt his throat tighten and his stomach clench as he watched the woman he loved rise above the gathered crowd. Her blue eyes fluttered closed as light pulsed gently around her. The scar on her chest shone like a star through the powder her attendants had used to hide it. Her long golden strands flew out around her. His mouth opened in surprise as he saw the pendant he had given her rise out of her bodice and float up.

Branwen's eyes shot open as she felt the stone leaf that had been pressed against her chest drift upwards. A fire burned within the depths of the stone.

_Carved with love, given with love, carried with love, returned with love. _A voice whispered to her as the stone burned brightly with green fire. Images danced in the flames. Legolas' face drifted in and out as he smiled, laughed, frowned, scolded, and cried. She saw his anguish as he discovered she had nearly died to save him. The swimming lessons flickered across the stone's surface, the two of them laughing. Her heart wrenched as she saw the pain in his face as he tried desperately to revive her after her attempted suicide. She saw the tender way in which he hid her scars from the servants and her grandmother. Tears filled her eyes as she watched him weep for her. Branwen had never known and her heart ached with the knowledge that she had hurt him so much.

Legolas straightened as he saw the tears falling from the princess' eyes. What was happening to her? Her eyes caught his across the distance. His heart hammered as she smiled through her tears at him. The prince cursed himself for not telling her how he felt. He prayed she had chosen the path of an Elf so that he might still have a chance someday. At the moment no one could tell what path she had chosen.

A soft warmth moved across Branwen's body. She felt her aches and pains fading, her skin relaxing where it had once been tight over scar tissue as the warmth passed over. She felt her ears shift as they grew into points. The warmth settled over the star-shaped scar on her chest.

_Left as a memorial to love and devotion. _The voice whispered again. The scar pulsed with a blinding light. Everyone shielded their eyes as the light blinded them.

Legolas opened his eyes as the light faded. Standing on the dais beside Aragorn and Arwen was a beautiful she-Elf. No longer was the scar on her chest hidden, rather it sparkled as if a thousand diamonds had been place over it.

"I choose to be one of the Elves," Branwen intoned clearly as if her choice was not already blindingly obvious. People cheered, not a cheer of excitement. It was more because no one knew exactly how to react.

The Elven Prince sagged against the marble columns in relief. She was part of his world, part of his life. Branwen ignored the angered looks the Easterling Prince was shooting her direction. Her eyes found the Elven Prince at the back of the room. She saw the smile on his face as he looked at her. A soft smile curved her own lips before she turned to answer someone standing beside her. When she next look up, Legolas had vanished, but Branwen knew that from now on, he'd never be far.


End file.
